


wanna be on your mind (stay there all the time)

by mihael_jeevas



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2019-05-13 13:14:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 21,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14749548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mihael_jeevas/pseuds/mihael_jeevas
Summary: Shisui will never know how lucky he has it, to have the gift to drift with almost anyone. For as long as he’s been in the field Shisui’s never had a real partner; it’s handy to have someone open enough to let multiple people into his head and the talent to do serious damage.Maybe Itachi’s jealous, he thinks as Shisui slings an arm over his shoulder as they walk into the Combat Room. Whether he’s jealous of only Shisui, well.That’s another matter entirely.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> title comes from valerie june's 'wanna be on your mind.' content warnings will be added as the fic continues.

“It’s going to be fine, you know,” Shisui says, in the annoyingly confident way he says everything, as they walk through the halls of the Jaeger Academy. Most times it doesn’t bother Itachi. Usually he finds it inspiring, maybe even endearing. Now, however, he just wants to slap his cousin into silence and possibly unconsciousness, too.

“I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

“You’re wearing your nervous face." 

Itachi scowls. “I am not wearing any sort of face.”

“You so are. Your lips get all pursued like you’ve got food poisoning and you’re trying not to puke.” Itachi glares at him, which of course only has the effect of causing Shisui to dissolve into laughter. “I’m serious! You’re gonna do great. No one’s going to stand a chance against you.”

 _That’s what I’m afraid of,_ Itachi thinks sourly. A Jaeger pilot is nothing without a partner and Itachi, for all his tactical and intellectual prowess, has never been a social butterfly. Without Shisui he’s always been hopeless with people, and it’s not like he can take Shisui into the drift with him.

It’s not exactly common practice to borrow the Academy’s Combat Room to test a single recruit, but Itachi, as everyone keeps telling him, isn’t just any Ranger candidate. At first, Itachi had taken everything the Jaeger Academy had thrown at him with ease: battle tactics and technical knowledge had fit into his mind with no problem. Word of Itachi’s abilities had spread quickly and lead to a fair amount of excitement when he began Drift Sync Testing. The Testing was, to everyone’s surprise, a complete failure. For all his gifts, Itachi had a closed mind and, no matter what he did, couldn’t open himself to his comrades. Such resistance would normally be an instant disqualifier for a recruit. But there was too much potential, the Academy reasoned, to simply throw it away. So they kept trying, though success remained out of reach. _You have one of the best records this Academy has ever seen,_ his professor had said after yet another gruelling day of testing. _But I won’t send a Ranger who can’t drift into battle. If you can’t find a compatible partner, you’ll never pilot a Jaeger._

The words have played in his head on constant loop since he heard them, and now have lead to Marshal Sarutobi and Itachi’s own father to travel from their post in Hong Kong to Kodiak Island in the hopes of finding a way to salvage Itachi’s promising military career. Shisui, mostly likely against Fugaku’s wishes, has travelled along for moral support. However, considering Shisui’s own successes, Itachi’s willing to bet there’s an excellent chance of said moral support backfiring spectacularly.

Shisui will never know how lucky he has it, to have the gift to drift with almost anyone. For as long as he’s been in the field Shisui’s never had a real partner; it’s handy to have someone open enough to let multiple people into his head and the talent to do serious damage. His cousin’s prowess as a Ranger wasn’t really surprising considering his heritage; his grandfather, Kagami, had helped design the Jaeger program, so it would have been stranger if Shisui wasn’t gifted in some capacity.

Maybe Itachi’s jealous, he thinks as Shisui slings an arm over his shoulder as they walk into the Combat Room. Whether he’s jealous of only Shisui, well.

That’s another matter entirely.

 

*

 

It goes as badly as Itachi had expected, if not worse: he lays seventeen of his class’ highest-ranking students out on the mat in less than twenty minutes while Shisui does a truly terrible job of disguising his laughter as a coughing fit.

Meanwhile, Fugaku Uchiha is very much not laughing. He’s watching Itachi with narrowed eyes, his jaw clenched tight enough to crack, and Itachi can’t bear to look at him. Guilt sits heavy in his chest, tastes bitter on his tongue, and he studiously avoids his father’s gaze. Idly he wonders if Fugaku regrets enrolling both he and Shisui in martial arts as children.

Sandwiched between the two Uchiha is Marshall Sarutobi, his lined face unreadable. Shisui leans in to whisper in the Marshal’s ear, and though he raises an eyebrow, he nods approvingly at whatever Shisui’s said. Itachi doesn’t have a moment to question what’s happening before Shisui toes off his shoes and steps into the ring, practice sword in hand.

“What are you _doing_?” Itachi hisses once Shisui’s standing close to him.

“Relax. It’s nothing we haven’t done a million times before.” That's all the warning he gets before Shisui lunges at him.

Instinct kicks in, blows past Itachi’s bewilderment, and he raises his own sword to block Shisui’s attack. It was smart of Shisui to catch him off guard, to rely on surprise to gain the upper hand out of the gate. But then again, like Shisui himself said, this is nothing they haven’t done before. Itachi’s spent enough time on the receiving end of Shisui’s blows to know that the man recovers fast, and he's able to dodge his cousin's next move. It’s a risky one that leaves Shisui wide open to a counter-attack, a fact Itachi seizes upon. Of course, it’s a reaction Shisui was expecting, and he meets Itachi’s strike head on, hitting with enough force to send Itachi flying onto his back. He lands on the mat with a heavy thud, staring up at the ceiling in shock. 

“One-zero,” Shisui’s voice says from somewhere around Itachi’s head, echoing in the stunned silence of the training room.

Itachi climbs back onto his feet, face burning. Even though he knows that the purpose of this exercise isn’t to win a fight, it stings to lose in front of everyone’s prying eyes. For six months he’s been untouchable to these people and now they’ve seen him bested, seen him _weak_. In the back of his mind he recognizes that it’s probably this mentality that’s contributing to his inability to drift, but he can’t focus on that thought. Instead he sets his sights on Shisui, standing composed and amused across from him, and dives back in. He moves in a rush, uncharacteristically uncoordinated, and is easily deflected.

“Two-zero,” Shisui announces, then adds, quieter, “you’re not concentrating.”

“It’s a bit difficult with a crowd,” Itachi replies, tone clipped.

“Don’t think about them. Pretend it’s just us in here. Focus on me.”

 _As if I could do anything else_ , Itachi thinks irritably, narrowly avoiding the collision of Shisui’s sword into his ribs. The strike, while well placed, had been overly ambitious, had caused Shisui to step too far into Itachi’s space. It presents Itachi with the opportunity to swing his sword around and stop it mere inches from the curve of Shisui’s throat. “Two-one,” he calls out, batting down the flutter he feels in his chest when Shisui smiles at him.

“Much better,” Shisui murmurs.

“Shut up.”

It gets easier after that, to block out everything else and center his attention on Shisui. He had almost forgotten what it was like to spar with Shisui, how singular an experience it is. For as long as they’ve known each other they’ve always pushed each other. Shisui had always been the only person who could match Itachi step for step, could challenge and surprise him, and Itachi relishes the ache he feels beginning in his muscles and the way his shirt clings to his back. Stepping into the ring with Shisui reminds Itachi of what he’s been missing all these months, and it feels like a puzzle snapping into place.

In the end, neither of them wins. The fight produces a three-three tie that seems fitting, considering the circumstances. Itachi slumps over, placing a hand to his ribs and breathing harshly; he can’t remember the last time he felt so utterly _spent_.

“Well,” Shisui says, grinning as he reaches up to wipe sweat off his brow. “That settles that.”

Itachi is inclined to agree.

 

*

 

Of course, it turns out that does not, in fact, settle that.

The politics of piloting a Jaeger are a lot more complicated than Itachi would have imagined, but sitting in the Headmaster's conveniently empty office after he and Shisui’s little performance gives him quite the crash course. For the most part he stays still and silent in his chair, watching as Shisui, the Marshal and his father go round and round arguing with one another. While Shisui and the Marshal have formed an alliance, Fugaku remains unyielding. They can run more tests, he argues, find more recruits.

“I still don’t understand what the problem is,” Shisui says, not for the first time, fifteen minutes into the argument. “You wanted to find a partner for Itachi, and you did. Mission accomplished.”

“What we wanted was to discover a new pilot, not take away an old one,” Fugaku replies stiffly.

“Yeah, that’s great and all, but it wasn’t going to happen. You know that as well as I do.” _You know how he is_ , is the subtext, unspoken but sung as clear as day.

“It’s an unnecessary risk to take a skilled pilot out of the field. It can take months to strengthen compatibility and prepare a Jaeger team for combat. In that time, you won’t be able to drift with anyone else. You have a valuable ability; it’s not one we can afford to squander.”

“Is that what you’re worried about, then?” Shisui asks, and the sharp undercurrent to his question has Itachi frowning.

Fugaku’s lips twitch, clearly holding back God knows how many snide remarks.

The Marshal clears his throat, trying to dispel some of the tension very suddenly filling the room. “Itachi is one of the most promising candidates that has ever passed through this Academy. The real waste would be to turn our backs on his abilities because we’re afraid of taking a chance.”

“But--” Fugaku begins, and Itachi can’t take another word from any of them.

“Do I get a say in any of this?” He cuts in coolly. “Or did you forget I was even here?”

To his credit, Shisui at least looks guilty. Fugaku mostly looks irritated by Itachi’s insolence.

Marshal Sarutobi turns to him, fixing him with an intense stare. “What do you want, Itachi?” He asks.

A million thoughts flit through Itachi’s mind. He wants a lot of things, most of them he can’t admit to himself, let alone to everyone in this office. He wants to make his father proud, wants to make sure there’s a future where Sasuke can grow up healthy and safe. He wants Shisui to look at him the way he did when Itachi had him on the mat, for him to never look at anyone else like that. He wants it all. “I just want to make a difference,” he says finally, though the words don’t feel like nearly enough.

Somehow it must be the right answer, because Sarutobi nods and replies, “Then it’s settled. Itachi will be stationed at the Hong Kong Shatterdome to be trained as Shisui’s partner.”

“Yes, sir,” Fugaku replies thinly, and Itachi feels his stomach drop at the way his father refuses to look at him.

“You’re all dismissed. Oh, and Itachi?” The Marshal turns and favors him with a tired smile. “Congratulations on your graduation.”

Itachi simply nods, too stunned to form a proper response. That shock stays with him as they walk back to Itachi’s room so he can pack up his few possessions. His roommate isn’t in their shared dorm, and Itachi has no plans to seek him out to say goodbye. They’ve never been close, despite his roommate’s attempts at friendship, so Itachi doesn’t really see the point. He focuses on gathering his things, uses purpose to guide him away from his tangled feelings. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Shisui examine his (admittedly meager) surroundings before plopping down on Itachi’s bed. “Just when I thought it wasn’t possible for your father to hate me more than he already does,” he muses, shaking his head.

Itachi thinks back to what Shisui had said before-- _is that what you’re worried about, then?_ \--and frowns. While he’d like to believe his father isn’t that petty, it isn’t entirely unimaginable that the man’s dislike of Shisui would blind him even now when the world quite literally hangs in the balance. “He’ll get over it.”

“No, he won’t." 

“No, he won’t,” Itachi says, after a moment. If the last twelve years are anything to go by, Fugaku will go to his grave thinking Shisui Uchiha was put on this Earth purely to drag Itachi off the straight and narrow path. There are times--a lot of times, actually--where Itachi’s inclined to agree with his father in this belief; the crucial difference is that he doesn’t necessarily think it’s a bad thing. Itachi isn’t too proud to admit his faults. He’s willing to acknowledge that a lot of times the stunts Shisui pulls to make him act like a living, breathing person instead of an overly formal machine are for his own good. They compliment each other: Shisui is flexible while Itachi is stubborn, Itachi is cautious while Shisui is reckless. Together, they make one singular, functioning human--and, soon enough, one singular, functioning giant robot.

It’s a thought that’s going to take some getting used to.

“He’s can disapprove all he wants,” Shisui says, bringing Itachi back to Earth. “At the end of the day he’s not the one I have to go into the drift with.”

The casual acceptance in his cousin’s voice pricks something in Itachi’s mind. He thinks of how Shisui just _happened_ to tag along, the easy way he stepped onto the mat, and comes to a single, unpleasant conclusion: “You knew this was going to happen, didn’t you?”

“I had my suspicions,” Shisui admits.

Itachi whirls around to look at him, narrowing his eyes at the grin spreading across Shisui’s face. “I cannot _believe_ you.”

“Oh, come on! It isn’t that bad, is it? Being stuck with me?”

“There are worse things, I suppose.”

Shisui beams; he’s known Itachi long enough to understand that what seems like scraps of affection and unwilling admissions carry a lot more weight than most people know.

It only takes a few minutes for Itachi to shove his collection of clothes, books, and various personal items into the duffle bags he first came to the Academy with. He supposes there’s something symbolic about that.

Shisui slings one bag over his shoulder, eyeing Itachi carefully. “You good?”

Itachi looks around the all but empty room he’s spent the last six months of his life in. He should be sad, he thinks. He should miss this place. But it seems like a small place to pay for a future where he can fight, where he can do real good, with Shisui at his side.

“Yes,” he says, and off they go.

 

*

 

The Hong Kong Shatterdome is as familiar to Itachi as a second home. His father had taken both he and Shisui here frequently when they were children, always with a stern warning to be polite and touch nothing (Shisui, of course, touched everything). Coming back to it as an adult, and as a Ranger, is more than a little odd. Everything looms less large than it always has in his memories, the majesty of it all dimmed by the reality the Academy has been hammering into his head for the last few months. Walking to their shared room they pass by the Jaegers, the only thing that still stokes that old childlike sense of wonder. Looking at their determined faces and glossy bright paint he ponders which one will be his, and can’t help the way his heart pounds at the thought. He doesn’t have to be in the drift to know that Shisui’s feeling the same.

Nostalgia washes over Itachi as Shisui unlocks the door to their room. It’s like stepping into a time capsule as he walks in and takes in the carefully composed chaos that Shisui has amassed. There’s a pile of wrinkled clothes sitting on Shisui’s office chair that Itachi knows are clean but Shisui refuses to fold because he doesn’t see the point in behaving like a civilized human being. Dirty dishes and various papers litter the desk and floor, which is the extent of the actual mess. But there’s enough clutter for Itachi to know he’s going to spend the better part of the next day scrubbing the tiny room. He sighs and says, “I suppose it was too much to hope you’d grown out of being a slob.”

Shisui grins as he kicks off his shoes, his sneakers landing somewhere in the abyss next to his desk. “You should thank me; I made sure to keep it like this because I know how much you enjoy cleaning up after me.”

Itachi scowls. “I can’t believe I ever missed you.”

Shisui simply reaches over and tugs on his ponytail in response.

For a long time Itachi had worried than when he and Shisui were reunited, things would be awkward between them. Though they had kept in contact and occasionally seen one another for brief moments in time, such occurrences were world's away from the closeness they had shared growing up. It’s a relief that, despite the years and space between them, nothing has really changed. They still push and pull at one another, bickering as if they’ve never been separated, and Itachi goes through the motions of squabbling over who gets the first shower with an almost absurd amount of joy. The truth is that he’s missed Shisui more than he can say; having him be gone was like losing a limb or one of his senses. Being away from his best friend had left Itachi with a sensation of being incomplete, fitting considering what they’re about to embark on together.

It takes five rounds of rock-paper-scissors before Itachi finally concedes defeat and lets Shisui have the bathroom. For all that he teases Shisui, the truth is that he has his own childish streak as well.

Even though he and Shisui never actually shared a room growing up, they had spent enough time in each other’s rooms as kids that living together now has a familiar comfort to it. When he first came to live with them Shisui had nightmares almost constantly, understandable given what he’d gone through. Most nights Itachi would wake up to find Shisui pulling back his sheets and crawling into bed with him, wrapping his limbs around Itachi as if he could erase the horrors in his mind by holding on tight enough. And Itachi, far too fond of the closeness and terrible at denying Shisui anything, had let him. Even as they got older and Fugaku made his thoughts on their bed-sharing painfully clear, Shisui still spent far more time in Itachi’s room than he did his own; it was part of the reason said room suddenly felt cold and far too open when Shisui left for the Academy.

 _It isn’t that bad, is it?_ Shisui had asked before. _Being stuck with me?_ Itachi smiles and shakes his head as the sound of offkey singing drifts in from the bathroom. “Maybe not,” he answers softly before beginning to unpack his things.

That night, with Shisui’s snoring, unconscious body in the bunk above his, Itachi sleeps better than he has in years.

 

*

 

The next day, Shisui drags him through the Shatterdome with ridiculous enthusiasm, showing Itachi around as if he doesn’t know this place like the back of his hand. “Need I remind you this isn’t the first time I’ve been here,” he says, as his cousin pulls him by his wrist down the dormitory’s hallway.

“It’s different now that you’re a Ranger,” Shisui argues. “Besides, a lot has changed since we were kids.”

The longer Shisui’s tour goes on, the more Itachi is inclined to agree with him. While the general layout has stayed the same, there’s a sea of new people Itachi doesn’t recognize. A lot of the grunt crew is the same, weathered faces that light up in recognition as Itachi speaks with them, though he recalls few of their names. Shisui’s friendly with a lot of the techs, particularly a woman named Anko who watches Itachi with uncomfortable focus before Shisui all but shoves Itachi out of Mission Control. He spots his father out of the corner of his eye, and doesn’t miss the way Fugaku turns away from him.

Most of the other Rangers are nowhere to be found, preoccupied with training or trying to enjoy the peace that comes before an inevitable attack. The most recent attack was only a few days ago, meaning they have about three weeks to prepare if the K-Science Department’s predictions are correct. The only team they encounter on their walk is Kakashi and Gai coming out of the Combat Room, and they exchange polite chit chat before continuing on. Not a lot of time has passed since Itachi has last seen them, but they both already look older, harder; everyone in the Shatterdome does, Shisui included, and it makes Itachi’s stomach twist.

The newest transplants to the Hong Kong branch are the scientists. Up until now all Itachi has known about them is that they’re both very young, very intelligent, and exceptionally good at giving the Marshal a headache with their constant bickering. Stepping into the lab, it quickly becomes clear why they’ve been so troublesome. Karin Uzumaki isn’t much older than Itachi, but what she lacks in age she makes up for in enthusiasm and knowledge of a dizzying amount of technical jargon. On the flipside, for all that Karin is bubbly and overflowing with information that Itachi is sure flies over Shisui’s head as well as his own, her partner is her exact opposite. Kabuto Yakushi watches the three of them with a mix of apprehension and disgust.

As Karin and Shisui chat about God knows what, Itachi breaks away from them and wanders over to Kabuto's workstation. “What exactly are you testing for?” He asks, eyes roaming over the vial of bright blue liquid in the scientist’s hand.

“Something above your security clearance,” Kabuto answers sharply.

“Oh, ease up, will you? It’s just a question,” Karin calls from across the room.

“Unlike you, I actually take my job seriously. Hence the lack of ‘easing.’”

For her part, Karin simply rolls her eyes, turning back to her calculations. “He’s trying to determine what specific component of kaiju blood makes it so harmful to organic matter--you know, why it makes us all melty,” she adds, flashing Itachi a grin.

Kabuto looks up, glaring at her over the rounded lens of his glasses. “Thank you for that.”

“You know, you might actually benefit from letting Itachi into your secret science club,” Shisui cuts in. “He’s freakishly smart, totally a massive nerd just like you guys.”

“Hey!” Karin yells.

“You can get out of my laboratory now,” Kabuto says stiffly.

“ _Our_ laboratory,” she corrects with a scowl. 

“ _My_ laboratory.” Kabuto glares at Shisui and points at the door with a finger covered in a thick, fluorescent substance Itachi finds equal parts fascinating and vile. “Out.”

In the hallway, Itachi shakes his head as they walk away from the muffled sound of the scientists’ latest argument. “And here I thought my social skills were lacking,” he says, looking at his friend. “I can’t take you anywhere.”

Shisui grins, entirely too pleased with himself. “I tease because I care,” he replies. 

“No, you tease because you think it’s fun to push people’s buttons.”

“The two aren’t mutually exclusive.” 

“Sadist,” Itachi counters, and Shisui’s laugh echoes throughout the narrow corridor. To his credit, he doesn’t disagree.

By early afternoon all that’s left to see in the Shatterdome is the Jaegers themselves. The holding dock is a flurry of activity, sparks flying as small figures hanging on metal wires bounce around the machines. The cleanup from the most recent Kaiju attack is in full-swing, and repairs on the Jaeger that took the monster on, Crimson Flash, are just finishing up. As Itachi watches the techs work, Shisui stands besides him on the platform naming each Jaeger and rattling off their stats. It’s not new information to Itachi, but he’s content to let Shisui ramble, the rise and fall of his voice a familiar comfort in the cacophony of noises around them.

Looking at the Jaegers, Itachi realizes how much he’s taken for granted over the years. It had always been a given to him that he would be a Ranger. The thought had come to him as a boy and taken root early, nursed by a father who was eager to have a son that brought glory to their already prestigious family name. Shisui leaving for the Academy had just made it all the more clear that this was to be Itachi’s path, that someday he would be standing primed and ready to take on whatever creature slithered out of the Earth’s core. He had always assumed that being a Ranger would be as easy for him as everything else in life inexplicably was, that he wouldn’t have to work at it. He had been so naive--and more than a little conceited, honestly--to think it would all just fall into his lap. And yet, despite all the odds, it seems like it has. Now all that’s left is for Itachi to watch and wait for the other shoe to drop.

“I saved the best for last,” Shisui says, pulling Itachi out of his thoughts as he points at the remaining Jaeger in the lineup. It’s shaped differently than the other models, just as barrel-chested as the rest but more slender overall. Answering Itachi’s unspoken question, Shisui continues, “Susano’o is the newest model built. She was designed to be quicker, more agile than the older machines.”

“‘Susano’o,’” Itachi repeats. “Named after the Shinto god of sea and storms. Seems appropriate, all things considered.”

“That’s what I thought.” 

Itachi turns to Shisui with an eyebrow raised, taking in Shisui’s smug and delighted expression as his own heartbeat triples. “Is she ours?”

“If you’ll have her.”

Itachi looks at the machine, takes in the shining green paint and the sharp, angular plans of her head, and feels dizzy. “This is really happening,” he says, speaking to himself more than anything.

“Of course it is,” Shisui replies regardless, turning to him with a smile. “I’m glad you’re here. I waited for you long enough.”

“How did you know I would even make it through?”

“Because I know you, and I know us. All this time I was just biding my time drifting with other people. I always knew I was meant to be with you in the end."

It takes careful muscular control to keep the shock he feels at those words from registering on his face. “When did you get so sentimental?” 

“You could just say you’re happy to be with me, too, you know.”

“I could,” Itachi agrees. 

“But you won’t.”

Of course not; admitting such a thing is far more emotionally vulnerable than Itachi can allow himself to be--ironic considering why he’s come back to the Shatterdome in the first place. So he smiles and says, throat dry, “Never.”

 

*

 

Itachi can’t picture a time in his life where Shisui hasn’t been there. 

He knows there _is_ such a time, because he hadn’t met Shisui until he was seven. The Uchiha family wasn’t a small one, so it wasn’t unusual for one to go their entire life without meeting every single member of the clan. Odds are, he never would have met Shisui were it not for the fact that at one point in his life Shisui had no one else.

He remembers vividly the day Fugaku had brought Shisui home. It had been storming, the sky a violent gray punctured by lightning strikes. Itachi had sat by the living room window reading, waiting, while his mother tended to Sasuke. Even though they were upstairs, Itachi could still hear Sasuke crying; he had been a fussy baby, and the screeching volume of his voice alone probably could have brought a Kaiju to its knees.

The front door had opened, and his father had stepped inside, grave-faced as always, with a small figure trailing behind him. Itachi had all but leapt to his feet, curious; his family was a private one, and they rarely had guests, especially not children Itachi’s age. He padded over, intrigued by the slightly taller boy who refused to meet his eyes.

“This is Shisui. He’s going to be staying with us from now on,” Fugaku announced, in the same stern voice he always used, as if he were giving an order rather than stating a fact.

“Oh,” Itachi said quietly. “Hi.”

Shisui had only nodded at him, and Itachi had been struck by his dark, sad eyes and the way the rain worked through the curly mess of his hair. 

Later that evening, his mother would fill in the many blanks Fugaku had left behind and explained exactly why Shisui was in their guest room. Shisui was a distant cousin of Itachi and Sasuke, Mikoto explained, and had recently lost his parents in a Kaiju attack. Itachi tried to picture what that would be like, how the world would feel if his mother was lying in a cold grave rather than sitting on the edge of his bed, and shivered. He spent most of that night awake, turning over thoughts of Shisui in his mind, and realized he couldn’t leave Shisui in that empty, lonely space. But Itachi, always an awkward soul, quickly realized that creating a friendship with someone was easier said than done. Shisui had been sullen and closed-off at first, constantly rebuffing Itachi, and it made him second-guess his brilliant plan. But he was persistent, and was eventually rewarded for his efforts with a connection more powerful than he ever would have imagined.

For as long as Itachi can remember, Shisui has always been there. He had been there when they were children filled with absurd hopes and impossible dreams. He had been there when they were teenagers, sneaking out of in the middle of the night to get in the kind of trouble that quickly soured Fugaku’s opinion on his young charge. Even when missing physically, after he left the relative comfort of their home to run off and die for the glory of humanity, his presence had remained, haunting every corner of Itachi’s life. And now, Itachi’s going to plunge forward into the unknown with nothing to guide him but Shisui.

It’s a daunting prospect. Much of Itachi’s life has been spent quietly and intensely denying the effect Shisui has on him. But he won’t be able to hide in the drift--at least, not easily. In the drift, he’ll feel Shisui in every part of him, and the knowledge leaves Itachi in shambles.

 

*

 

The morning of their first trial run, Shisui drags Itachi down to the Combat Room to spar.

Itachi hadn’t slept a wink the night before, too hopped up on a combination of anxiety and excitement to even close his eyes. Predictably Shisui hadn’t had such issues, and Itachi envied the ease and surety with which he was navigating their new reality. Then again Shisui also apparently had the advantage of having hoped and planned for this day for years, so Itachi supposes he can be forgiven for his ongoing anxiety attack.

Despite his own exhaustion, Itachi welcomes the physical exertion. There’s something very simple, very safe, about the way they move together. The longer they fight, the more Itachi feels the conviction he possessed in their most recent match returning. This can work; he can _make_ it work.

Of course, the moment they stop dancing around one another the doubt begins to creep in once again. When they’re finished Itachi all but drops to the floor, sitting with his back against the wall while Shisui takes a drink from his water bottle. Itachi looks at him, _really_ looks at him for the first time since they’ve reunited, and his breath catches in his throat. The only trace of the loose-limbed teenager Shisui once was is the gentle humor that still lights up his eyes. The lingering baby fat from Itachi’s memories has long since faded and given way to sharp cheekbones and a strong jawline that highlight how unfairly handsome Shisui is. While he hadn’t gotten much taller in the years they’d been separated, he had certainly gotten broader, a testament to the taxing physical demands of being a Ranger. Though he knows he shouldn’t be staring, Itachi can’t bring himself to look away.

Predictably, Shisui chooses exactly that moment to wipe his face with his shirt, lifting the tank to reveal finely toned abs and a trail of dark hair disappearing into his shorts, and Itachi tries very hard not to swallow his own tongue.

“You haven’t heard a single thing I just said, have you?” Shisui asks, lightly teasing, and Itachi’s head snaps up.

“I doubt it was anything important,” he answers, annoyed at the rough curl of his voice. With any luck Shisui will assume that his red face has everything to do with their workout and absolutely nothing to do with Itachi lusting over him.

“I’m going to be the bigger person and ignore that insult to instead focus on whatever angst is clearly tormenting you.”

“There is no angst, Shisui. I was just thinking.”

Shisui rolls his eyes. “That’s your problem; you’re _always_ thinking.”

“Well, one of us has to,” Itachi says. “Contrary to popular belief, you can’t punch your way out of every obstacle in life.”

“My military career would say otherwise,” Shisui replies. “But please, continue deflecting because you don’t want to talk about your feelings.”

Itachi bites the inside of his cheek. It’s bad enough that Shisui already knows him this well; he can’t imagine what their relationship is going to be like once Shisui is _literally_ inside his head. “What if I can’t do it?” He asks, keeping his eyes steadfastly forward as Shisui sits beside him.

“What, can’t drift?” Shisui shakes his head. “Not gonna happen.”

“I couldn’t do it at the Academy.”

“Well, obviously not. There’s a lot of Rangers that can’t drift with just anyone. And you’re way too weird and private to let random strangers into your head.”

“Thank you for the vote of confidence.”

“The point is that you’re _not_ going to be drifting with just anyone. I’ll be there, remember?”

“As if I could forget,” Itachi answers flatly. “You are annoyingly arrogant, in case no one has told you that recently.”

“It’s only arrogance if you have no reason to be confident,” Shisui replies with an honest to God _wink_ , and despite everything the gesture helps loosen the death grip anxiety has on Itachi’s stomach.

“It’s a wonder that massive head of yours can even fit inside a helmet." 

“The techs make sure to grease me up before I put it on."

"Hilarious."

"Hey, look at me.” Shisui reaches over and hooks a finger under Itachi's chin, turning him so that their faces are impossibly close. “It’s just like when we were in the training room. Forgot about the Marshal and your dad and everyone else; all that matters is us. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

The thing is, Itachi desperately wants to believe him. So, despite his own worries and the knot in his throat, he smiles and says, “Okay.” 

Shisui grins at him before moving to ruffle Itachi's hair. It’s a familiar gesture, one Shisui’s done at least a thousand times before, but it sends a shiver down Itachi’s spine. “C’mon, we got a date to prepare for. You ready for this?”

Itachi nods, not feeling ready at all. “Lead the way.”

 

*

 

The process of suiting up is almost relaxing in its mind-numbing slowness.

As the techs fit them for plates, Itachi can’t help but chuckle as he sees the way Shisui’s body vibrates with restless energy. Shisui has always been like this, childish in his inability to stay still, and fondness fills Itachi’s heart to see this is yet another thing about his cousin that hasn’t changed. Itachi, on the other hand, is content to study how the techs move and what parts they use. It’s thrilling to watch the subject of his studies come to life and to know that his hard work has paid off.

The fascination must be clear on his face because from his place on Itachi's right side Shisui laughs and says, “Still such a damn nerd.”

Itachi rolls his eyes and says nothing, too focused on soaking in the experience. Someday, if he’s lucky, this will all become a tedious routine, as it no doubt is for Shisui. But for now it’s novel, shiny and new, and Itachi wants to sear every piece of it into his memory. So he files away as much as he can: the smell of oil, the weight of metal on his body, the way his stomach plummets as Susano’o’s head connects with the rest of her frame.

“I should tell you,” Shisui says as they wait inside their Jaeger for the drift to initialize. “The first time is always… intense, especially when you’re drifting with someone you have a tight bond with.”

“I shouldn’t have a problem, then,” Itachi replies dryly. It's easier to bicker with Shisui than let himself think about the fact that high above them the Marshal and his father are watching their every move, both desperately hoping for success but, in Fugaku's case, most likely preparing for disappointment. 

Shisui snorts. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Even though the Mission Controller warns them the drift has been started, it still slams into Itachi with a sudden force that has him reeling. One moment everything is silent and the next he can feel the full force of Shisui’s mind pressing into his own. Though it's not the first time Itachi has tried to drift, it is the first time he's attempted it with someone compatible, and the difference between his Academy trials and his current experience is staggering. It _hurts_ , the onslaught of sensation, and Itachi realizes that nothing in the Academy could ever truly prepare cadets for the intimate weight of the drift. Everything feels both too large and too small, as if an entire world is being rewritten inside his skull, and he can't bear it. Instinctively, Itachi pulls back, tries to break their link as if it’s a physical thing, but Shisui won’t let him go. Panic courses through him, fills his head to the point where he think he might explode with it. All he knows is that he has to get _away._

“It’s okay," Shisui says. The sound is muffled, like he's under water, and Itachi recoils from the added stimulation. “This is normal. Let it happen.”

“I can’t.” Itachi’s voice is a high, broken noise he doesn’t recognize.

“Yes, you can. I’ve got you.”

 _I don’t want you to_ , Itachi thinks, as another wave of pain hits him.

“I know you don’t,” Shisui answers, out loud. “But you’re hurting yourself by fighting the handshake. I know it’s hard, but you need to calm down. Breathe. Just breathe.”

Itachi nods, sluggish. Somewhere under the swarm of visions and sounds is his own body, and he reaches back for himself. He focuses on his lungs, on reclaiming their rhythm and bringing it back to its normal state. Slowly the frenzied pressure of the drift begins to fade, dims into something manageable, almost comfortable.

Shisui’s relief is palpable, something soft and warm sweeping through Itachi's being. “You’re doing good,” he says, clearer this time, and suddenly Itachi understands exactly what makes his cousin such a prized asset. It’s not his speed, his physical ability, not even his cleverness--though, admittedly, depending on the situation Shisui can be the last person one turns to for a bright idea. It’s this support, equal parts tender vulnerability and unrelenting loyalty, that makes Shisui an ideal Ranger. There's a clarity in the way Shisui views life, something Itachi has always known but not fully understood until now. It's a steadying focal point for Itachi, someone who obsesses over small details and gets so hung up on what could and might happen that the sheer number of possibilities can freeze him in place. But now that he's not alone in his mind it's easy to borrow some of Shisui's confidence and dive back in. 

Itachi doesn’t make the choice to let him in, not consciously. It's simply that his resistance, his fear, begins to subside of its own accord. The second time isn’t nearly as intense. This time, when Shisui breaches his mind, Itachi knows what to expect. This time, when the memories come through, he doesn’t fight them. Instead, he simply accepts them, as if they're merely waves rolling on the shore. There are a few things that stand out--visions of Sasuke, of Shisui’s parents, and numerous ones of Itachi himself--but he holds on to nothing. All he focuses on is his breath, and the way he suddenly feels it vibrating in Shisui’s own body. After a moment, the sights and sounds have vanished, and Itachi realizes, startled, that the distance between them has disappeared entirely. 

“Neural handshake completed," Mission Control announces, the tinny voice vibrating through the Conn Pod, and Itachi laughs, feeling almost giddy.

"Nicely done," Shisui says, his grin visible even through the thick plexiglass of his helmet.

"I couldn't have done it alone," Itachi replies hoarsely. He realizes a moment later that speaking the words are futile; Shisui can hear them regardless, and the awareness sends another spark of delight and nausea through him. 

"Good work, you two," the Marshal says over the intercom. "I want you to run through some basic exercises to test your drift's strength."

"Only the basics," Fugaku adds sternly. "Don't push your luck."

"He really knows how to kill a moment, doesn't he?" Shisui asks wryly. Despite the humor in his tone, his irritation spikes hot around them. Not for the first time, Itachi wonders exactly what has happened in the last three years to cause the mild dislike between his father and cousin to bloom into outright animosity, but the thought is quickly and suspiciously snuffed out. He supposes it's fine for the time being; they have more pressing issues at hand right now. 

The Marshal calls for an end to the test after about twenty minutes of practicing simple movements, seeming satisfied with their early progress. When Itachi takes off his helmet, nothing’s really changed but somehow everything feels different. The world around him is brighter, clearer, more complete. Shisui is beside him, eyes wide and filled with an affectionate pride that makes Itachi feel warm all over. It’s like everything is exactly how it was always supposed to be.

He still collapses.

In the blink of an eye Shisui has disconnected from his station and is helping Itachi to his feet. “How are you feeling?” He asks.

“Tired,” Itachi replies, which isn’t a lie but isn’t entirely the truth, either. “You?”

“I’ve had better,” Shisui says, grinning with toothy, child-like innocence when Itachi smacks him in the shoulder.

Maybe, he thinks sourly, nothing’s changed after all. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There had been a time when his infatuation with Shisui would perhaps have been acceptable. Back when they were children, maybe, when the affection and longing he felt for Shisui was nothing but an innocent desire to follow his cousin down whatever path his rebellious ways took him. For a while, it had seemed a lot like his own brother’s love for him--exhilaration, admiration, and a bit of jealousy tangled up together in a young heart. But it wasn’t like that, not really. It was a silly puppy love that seemed, from the moment it blossomed, all encompassing. And again, if it had stayed that way, an absurd crush born from a child’s overactive imagination, perhaps it wouldn’t bother Itachi. If it were just a memory Itachi could file away, it wouldn’t haunt him everytime he stepped into the drift and anxiously waited for Shisui to expose him.

When he was still a cadet, Itachi had spent more time in the Academy’s Psych Department than he cares to admit. Towards the end of his studies he found himself bouncing between Psych Analysts like a pinball, feeling even more frustrated and cornered with every puzzled counselor he encountered and every failed session he agonized over. The Analysts had peeled back the layers of his life--a strict father, a doting mother, a brother who adored him and a best friend he adored--and searched for answers, clues to why he simply couldn’t be the perfect soldier everyone expected him to be. Of course, all of their introspections and inspections had been for naught because the answer was as simple as it was sad: there was only one person Itachi could fully connect to and, until less than a week ago, said person was thousands of miles and a tangled web of feelings away. 

So, when Itachi receives a memo from Dr. Kurenai Yuhi, sitting Psych Analyst for the Hong Kong Shatterdome, requesting to see him the following day, he’s less than thrilled. It’s only been a few days since he and Shisui’s trial run, and his mind still feels tired and raw; the last thing he wants to do is open his head up yet again, especially to a stranger who’s sure to search it for flaws and weaknesses.

“It’s standard procedure, once you’re officially matched with a partner,” Shisui says in between stuffing his face with the Shatterdome’s predictably mediocre cafeteria food. Though they haven’t been cleared for full Ranger training quite yet that hasn’t stopped Fugaku from ordering them to continue working on combat exercises. A part of Itachi suspects that his father is hoping additional sparring will mysteriously reveal that he was right and Shisui really was a fool for ever suggesting this partnership. For his part, Itachi’s own beliefs lie in the middle of the two extremes. 

They’re on one of their few breaks of the day, and as adverse as Itachi is to the prospect of meeting with yet another shrink, he appreciates the distraction it gives him; better to focus on his woes than the way sweat plasters Shisui’s thick curls to his head or the way his clothes stick to his toned frame. “They just want to make sure they’re not wasting precious PPDC cash on someone’s who’s cracked.”

“Then why are they so invested in you?” Itachi replies, not looking up from the blocky black text; childishly he hopes that if he reads the words enough they’ll simply disappear and he can continue on with his life, blissfully unexamined. That, and he’s not particularly interested in watching Shisui talk with a mouth full of reheated food.

“As always, your cruelty towards my person is incredibly unappreciated. Seriously though, it’s really nothing to worry about; Kurenai’s just going to ask you a bunch of questions, sign some forms, and then you won’t have to see her again until your annual eval.”

Itachi frowns. “Says the person who hasn’t been the pet project of every Psych Analyst on the Kodiak for months now.” 

From the corner of his eye he sees Shisui’s expression soften with understanding. “All that’s behind you now. You’re here and you’re one of us. Just smile, be polite, and, if worse comes to worst, lie through your teeth.”

“That’s terrible advice.”

“See, you say that, but ask me how many times I’ve been called into Kurenai’s office.”

“Clearly not nearly as many times as you should have been.” Sighing, Itachi carefully folds the note and slides it into his pocket. Part of Itachi hopes that if he can hide the evidence he won’t be able to dwell on the meeting, but he feels the weight of the small paper for the rest of the day.

 

*

 

The following morning he finds himself in the Shatterdome’s left wing, sitting across from Dr. Kurenai Yuhi’s pleasant yet reserved face. 

Before ever entering the Academy Itachi already had a sizeable fear of doctors, particularly those of the mental health variety. A naturally anxious child and a perfectionist to boot, Itachi approached every checkup, every exam, every simple dental cleaning as a possibility to learn that something was wrong, that he was damaged in some way. This tendency had landed him in therapy as a teenager, when his keen-eyed mother noticed her son’s habit of forsaking his own health and happiness for things like good grades and gaining his father’s approval. The sessions hadn’t gone very far; Itachi hadn’t been willing to be honest and there was little his doctor could do to encourage him. In hindsight, it seemed almost prophetic considering his later struggles at the Academy. 

That history, combined with his experiences at the Academy, leave Itachi feeling skeptical and vaguely nauseous while sitting in Dr. Yuhi’s tastefully minimalistic office. 

“I want to thank you for meeting with me today,” the doctor says with a careful smile.

Though Itachi is tempted to point out he technically had no choice in the matter, he replies, “Of course.”

“First off, I’d just like to say that you’re not here because you’re in any trouble. This is something we do with all new Rangers.”

“Standard procedure,” Itachi says. 

The doctor’s smile widens the tiniest bit. “Precisely.” Without missing a beat she opens the file resting primly in her lap, and Itachi’s stomach flips. “So,” she begins. “Tell me what brings you to the Shatterdome.”

“I would think you’d have that information already.”

“I do, but I’d like to hear it from your perspective. What motivates you to be a Ranger?”

_ Love, parental pressure, and perhaps a superiority complex _ , Itachi thinks to himself darkly. Out loud, he says, “I just want to do my part.”

“I see,” Dr. Yuhi replies, sounding a bit dubious. “But your aptitude scores were incredibly high as well. Did you ever consider a career in K-Science?” 

“I was essentially raised inside this Shatterdome, surrounded by my father’s work. I’ve known what the PPDC stands for since I was a boy, and I’ve known for just as long that my place within this organization was in being a Ranger.”

“That’s a very admirable goal. It seems like you’ve worked very hard to attain it.”

“I’ve certainly tried,” Itachi says, which feels like the understatement of the century. 

“And now you’re here. It would seem like your efforts have paid off. How do you feel about working with Shisui?”

“Good,” Itachi replies, perhaps a bit too quickly. It’s a loaded question and he’s eager to get past it as soon as possible. It could be Itachi’s paranoia flaring, but he swears the good doctor’s gaze sharpens the tiniest amount. Unsettled, he adds, “I think it’s for the best, all things considered.” 

“Could you tell me what you mean by that?”

“Well, you have my files,” Itachi answers, trying not to sound irritated. “You’re aware of my struggles at the Academy. I think partnering with Shisui is my best option.”

“Because you’re so close with him?”

Itachi swallows the bile threatening its way up his throat. “Yes.”

“I’d imagine it was hard being separated for so long.”

“To an extent. We grew up together, so I was very used to having him around.”

“Is it a relief to be reunited?”

“Somewhat. The circumstances are a bit…” 

“Complicated,” Dr. Yuhi finishes delicately.

“Of course I’m happy to see him. I’m also terrified I’m going to get one or both of us killed while we’re piloting.”

“Does that fear stem from your experiences at the Academy?”

Itachi nods, silent.

Dr. Yuhi smiles at him again, this time with compassionate warmth rather than professional politeness. “Itachi, it’s perfectly normal to be afraid; you’re about to embark on a monumental journey. Don’t be ashamed of your feelings.” It’s so saccharine, yet also so ignorant of Itachi’s current predicament, that he almost wants to laugh. Still, a part of Itachi is touched by her gentle yet steady support. Before her, the doctors he had seen were cold and prying, perhaps influenced by the icy atmosphere of the Kodiak. It’s comforting, despite his relative dishonesty, to be treated as a normal person with valid concerns rather than a basketcase bursting at the seams. “Have you tried talking to Shisui about your concerns?”

“A bit, before we first Drifted. He remains exceptionally confident in the power of our teamwork.” 

“But you’re not convinced?”

“I trust Shisui’s abilities about as much as I doubt my own. He has an uncanny talent for making even the worst ideas sound viable.”

“Having known Shisui for the last few years, I don’t doubt that assessment,” the doctor replies, chuckling. “But for what it’s worth, Itachi, I don’t think this is a bad idea at all. From my perspective, it seems like you’re both exactly where you need to be.”

“I certainly hope so,” he says, and it’s the most honest he’s been all session. “I don’t want to disappoint anyone, least of all him.”

“Well, I’m not at liberty to talk about my other clients, but I can say that in my professional opinion I don’t think that’s even possible. Shisui has a lot of faith in you; if nothing else, trust that.”

Emotion pricks uncomfortably at his eyes, and Itachi looks away, feeling awkward and far too warm. “I’ll do my best,” he says.

“I know you will,” Dr. Yuhi tells him before scribbling her pen over one of the forms in Itachi’s file. “I’m going to clear you for active duty, but I want you to know that if your feeling persists you’re always welcome to talk to me. I’ll be more than happy to listen.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Itachi replies politely even as he silently prays he’ll never have to set foot in this office ever again. It’s yet another secret to keep to himself. 

With Dr. Yuhi’s blessing secured, the Marshal doesn’t hesitate to take the training wheels off Itachi and Shisui’s partnership. The very next day after Itachi’s evaluation the real work begins, starting not long after sunrise and running until Itachi feels like he’s about to pass out from hunger, exhaustion, and the mess of numbers, terms, and techniques being thrown a him. It’s more than a little overwhelming, and even though he’s always been a fast learner Itachi feels disoriented and sluggish as he stumbles through he and Shisui’s exercises. More than once he feels like a failure, feels like giving up. But one look at Shisui’s face, determined and confident, gets him back up off his knees and working twice as hard as before. By the end of the day, as they all but limp back to their room, Itachi’s given more of himself in twelve hours than he has in six months and feels fulfilled in a way he hadn’t known possible. It’s the same the next day, and the next, and the next, a gruelling pattern Itachi’s surprised to find himself growing fond of. With each day gone by he feels that much more sure of his decision to come to Hong Kong and of himself as well. 

Being a Ranger becomes Itachi’s new normal quicker than he would have expected, even if he thinks it really shouldn’t. The world, as far as Itachi is concerned, is suddenly spinning in a different direction. The basic details of the last half a year--tests, classmates, endless failures--have dissolved into the atmosphere, replaced by security and surety. Somehow the hours of training and Drifting instantly becomes routine, as if he’s been living it for years. Maybe it’s Shisui’s own comfort in the Shatterdome leaking into Itachi’s consciousness. Or, though Itachi has never been prone to sentiment, he wonders if maybe there’s such a thing as fate after all. 

Despite how he had once dreaded it, it doesn’t take long for Drifting with Shisui to become shockingly mundane. After the spectacle that was their first Drift, Itachi had approached their second outing with a fair bit of skepticism and an even fairer bit of worry. But, with his baptism of fire under his belt, it was easier for Itachi to adapt to the freefall of melting into another person; once that he knew what to expect, it was almost simple to enter the Drift without losing himself inside of it. Now that the disastrous trial run is long behind them and he’s lost count of how many times they’ve Drifted, Itachi’s beginning to find an unexpected pleasure in the process. 

Unlike Itachi, Shisui is a near open book; touching his mind is like entering an unexplored landscape, fresh and inviting, and Itachi moves through it easily. The longer they Drift, the more Itachi finds himself collecting pieces of Shisui to bury within himself. Memories he never even known existed suddenly become so familiar and intimate to him he can’t imagine how he ever lived without them. 

The fourth time they Drift together, Shisui shows him his last moments with his father. The hallway is long and white, so bright it hurts Itachi’s eyes and seemingly unending. He feels like he could lost in it if he’s not careful, but somehow he knows the way to go. His feet move automatically, without any real thought, and he passes by what seems to be dozens of empty rooms until he finds the one he’s looking for. The breeze is warm on his face and the sound of crying rings in his ears. He can’t bring himself to look.

“It’s okay,” Shisui says, suddenly at his shoulder.

Itachi grimaces. “I didn’t want to intrude.”

“There’s nothing to intrude on. This happened a long time ago.” 

“Is this--?”

“The R.A.B.I.T? No. We’re just observing this memory, not holding onto it.” 

“I’m sorry,” Itachi says after a long moment.

“Me too.” Shisui’s smile is sad, but genuine. “Whenever I’m here, I never want to leave.”

“Why do you?” 

“Because no matter what I do or say, my father is dead. He’ll always be dead. And I have living things to protect.” 

Itachi has nothing to say, so he simply follows Shisui as they walk away from the past his partner would never dare to speak of outside of the privacy of their shared mind.

Despite his general openness, there are places within Shisui’s mind that Itachi doesn’t dare enter. Scattered amongst the warmth and light are pockets of darkness, tangled webs of shame and anger that Itachi makes no attempt to explore. Every once in a while there are hints that come to him in the drift even though he tries not to search for them out of a respect for Shisui’s privacy, broken off narratives about his childhood or the years he and Itachi spent apart. Itachi pretends not to see any of it, which isn’t terribly hard; he already does his fair share of pretending when it comes to Shisui, anyway. 

With his fears about Drifting temporarily assuaged, Itachi quickly becomes preoccupied by the end result of their training: battle. “What’s it like?” he asks Shisui one evening, after they’ve finished their exercises. “Going on a real run?”

“Amazing,” Shisui answers with a grin. “And terrifying, and awful, and everything in between. I can’t really explain it. It’s like… you’re not going to know until you know, you know?”

“That was a horrific abuse of sentence structure,” he says dryly. “But yes, I suspect I understand your meaning.”

“Honestly, all this training is kind of bullshit. I mean, yeah, it’s good for you to strengthen your basics. But it’s not going to prepare you for what it’s like to face a Kaiju; nothing can do that.”

Itachi looks across the hold at Susano’o and tries to picture the machine in the heat of battle. He imagines the sharp planes of her face cracked and shattered beneath a Kaiju’s weight, pictures the bright green glow of her glossy paint plastered in blood both Kaiju blue and human red. It’s a horrifying thought, one made even more disturbing by the amount of time and effort both he and Shisui have put into their Jaeger. By this point, it feels as if Susano’o is a part of Itachi, like the long hours he’s spent inside her cockpit have carved out a place inside his heart that could never be filled by anything else. For the first time, Itachi feels like he has something that truly belongs to him, something he can point to with pride and claim for himself. The idea that all of he and Shisui’s hard work could be erased in the blink of an eye is unthinkable. As for the human toll such an attack could take, well… Itachi tries very hard not to entertain those thoughts. 

“I don’t think I’ll ever be prepared for it,” he says softly, a shudder working down his spine. 

“That might be the smartest thing you’ve ever said,” Shisui replies with a smirk, and Itachi tries very hard not to dwell on the fact the expression doesn’t reach his cousin’s eyes.

  
  


*

 

Not even two days later, Itachi gets the answer to his question. 

It’s just after two in the morning when the Kaiju Alert rings out, the shrill sound of it echoing through the Shatterdome’s iron walls. In seconds Shisui’s jumped from the top bunk and is pulling on clothes and shoes with rapid speed, clearly used to the rush before battle. It takes Itachi a few moments longer, still startled from the sudden alarm and stalled by a quickly building panic for what it signals: a new Kaiju has surfaced, the first one since he was placed on active duty, and there’s no telling how he and Shisui will factor into the plan of attack. 

“Hey,” Shisui says loudly, snapping Itachi out of his trance. “Come on, we gotta go.”

“Right,” he replies with a jerky nod before beginning to frantically pull on his own clothing; in less than a minute they’re out the door and running down the halls.

When they reach Mission Control, Itachi finds himself looking into a sea of grimly determined faces. It’s a stark contrast to his own raging heartbeat, though he supposes that’s to be expected; catastrophe is the everyday reality for everyone in this room, save for him. Dauntless, Shisui makes his way through the crowd once he spots Anko, Itachi trailing behind him like a lost puppy. “Glad you could make it,” she tells them, her usual Cheshire grin replaced by a thin-lipped frown. 

“What do we know so far?” Shisui asks. 

“Nothing yet; the Marshal was waiting for the full crew to assemble before he made a statement.” 

As if on cue, Hiruzen clears his throat, calling for attention. “We’re currently dealing with a Level Three Kaiju, codename ‘Madara.’ The creature appeared on our radar roughly fifteen minutes ago. From what we’ve gathered it’s exceptionally fast, and focused on breaching the coastline, so we must act quickly. Kakashi, Gai: your job will be to engage Madara and prevent it from reaching the city at all costs.”

“Understood, sir,” Kakashi replies, looking and sounding completely apathetic. Beside him Gai nods fervently, eyes shining, and Itachi wonders if all successful Ranger units are based on the theory of opposites attracting. 

“Not good,” Shisui murmurs from beside Itachi, frowning.

“What is it?”

“Evening Elephant is an older, slower model. If this fucker’s strength is its speed, Susano’o would be much better suited to take it on.” 

Itachi’s stomach turns, both at the prospect of Evening Elephant being defeated and Susano’o being dispatched to assist. “Then we have to do something,” he tells Shisui, despite his fear.

Shisui looks over a him, a slow smile spreading across his face. “You read my mind,” he says before calling out, “Send Susano’o as backup. We can take it.”

“No,” Fugaku retorts almost immediately from his position at the Marshal’s shoulder. “You’re a newly-formed, untested unit. It would be too risky.”

“The only way we’re going to  _ get _ tested is if we make a run,” Shisui responds irritably. “Besides, you don’t have a lot of other options right now.”

Though Itachi is sure his father is loathe to agree with Shisui, the facts are undeniable: two of their teams were recently reassigned, with Obito and Rin sent to the Lima Shatterdome and Inoichi, Shikaku, and Choza now stationed in Sydney; on top of that, repairing Crimson Flash has proven to be an unusually difficult task, leaving Susano’o as the literal last resort. 

“I’m ordering Susano’o to protect the coastline,” Fugaku says after an uncomfortably long silence. “Do not take so much as one step away from your assigned position without my instruction.” 

Once the crowd begins to thin and everyone moves into their assigned roles, Anko turns to Shisui and asks, “You always have to make a scene, don’t you?” 

“At least I’m predictable,” he counters pleasantly.

“Just don’t die out there--either of you,” she adds, looking at Itachi. Beneath her easygoing facade there’s a real concern in her eyes that warms Itachi unexpectedly.

“We don’t plan on it,” Itachi says, a bit uncomfortable with the sudden display of emotion. “But thank you.” 

As they approach the holding dock, Shisui suddenly grabs Itachi by the arm and pulls him to a stop. “Hey,” he says quietly. He’s standing far too close and his fingers are far too warm, both things Itachi tries very hard not to think about as he wills his heart out of his throat. Of all the times to get distracted by Shisui’s… Shisui-ness, now is certainly  _ not _ a good one. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.” 

Itachi’s incredulity must show on his face, because Shisui quickly adds, “Okay, yes, the giant monster from the depths of hell with the power to obliterate us is a little concerning. But you know that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“I know,” Itachi says, looking everywhere but Shisui’s face.

“We’ll be fine out there. You just have to trust me.”

The notion seems completely absurd to Itachi. “Shisui, I trust you more than I ever trusted anyone,” he replies. “That isn’t the problem.”

“Then trust yourself that much, too.”

Itachi smothers a frown.  _ No promises _ , he thinks to himself, but doesn’t dare speak the words aloud.  

The process of suiting up is somehow both a frantic and numb blur. Even as Itachi goes through the motions of putting on his gear and steps inside Susano’o, none of it feels real. It’s as if he’s observing his life from a distant, detached platform rather than actually living it. Reality only comes back to slap him in the face as Anko’s voice informs him the Drift is being initialized and Shisui’s very existence pours into him, viscerally forcing him back into his body. The initial discomfort of the Drift has eased the more he and Shisui have practiced, the pain going from mind-ripping to little more than the sensation of squeezing into a too-small pair of pants. With this particular connection, however, it takes Itachi longer to find his footing, and he finds himself stumbling through a sea of thoughts and feelings as he tries to anchor himself to the present.  _ Breathe _ , he thinks to himself, echoing Shisui’s instructions from their very first Drift,  _ just breathe _ . Simple though the words may be, they work to recenter him every time, and Itachi is finally able to slide into the comfortable synchronicity he and Shisui have built together. He holds onto the sensation with a mental death-grip as Susano’o is taken from the Shatterdome and brought to, at least for Itachi, the literal uncharted waters of the Hong Kong coastline. 

Itachi, like almost all of the surviving human population, has witnessed a Kaiju battle before. Despite the dangers of getting so close, there are always news helicopters floating around the  Kaiju like vultures, broadcasting the carnage worldwide to eager eyes; in fact, Itachi can already see them, carefully circling above as Evening Elephant advances on Madara. But the experience of watching such a horror in real life is far, far different from simply viewing it through the safety of a television. Because of their close proximity Itachi can sense so much more, and it only feeds into his growing sense of dread. 

Opening its massive jaws, Madara lets out an ungodly howl. The noise is painfully loud, violently echoing throughout Susano’o’s metallic chambers, and Itachi winces as the sound fills his ears.  _ Don’t panic,  _ Shisui tells him through the Drift. Though he’s on high alert, Shisui is remarkably calm (albeit frustrated at the their restriction), and Itachi latches onto his stability to keep from falling headfirst into anxiety. Now is certainly not the time to get sloppy.

At first, everything appears to be in Evening Elephant’s favor: with their combined strength and intelligence and nearly unmatched Drift compatibility, Gai and Kakashi are one of the PPDC’s most successful Jaeger units for a reason. It’s thrilling, in a way, to watch them work, to observe their fluid movements and the way they don’t even need to speak with one another as they attack. Itachi can only hope that someday he and Shisui will reach that level, even though it feels a bit like a pipe dream considering his limitations. 

Despite their best efforts, the conflict takes a sudden turn as Madara headbutts Evening Elephant mid-attack and sends the Jaeger stumbling back. Horrifyingly, just as Shisui predicted the creature uses its superior speed to strike repeatedly before Gai and Kakashi can get their footing realigned. Finally free, they manage to dodge the Kaiju’s fists and aim to hit it with a kick. But Madara moves too fast and catches them by the leg before tossing the Jaeger through the air like a ragdoll. 

“Shit,” Shisui whispers as Evening Elephant collides with the sea. From his studies, Itachi knows that Gai and Kakashi are in serious trouble; given the amount of energy it takes to move their machines the most dangerous place for a Jaeger to be is on its back, especially if it’s in the water. Making matters even worse is the Kaiju’s tenacity. In seconds, Madara is galloping across the coast and leaping onto the incapacitated team. It unleashes a flurry of attacks on Evening Elephant, fists striking the Jaeger over and over again. The sound of metal cracking fills the air, and sparks fly through the night as the team takes even more damage. It’s a hideous sight, easily the worst thing Itachi’s ever seen, and yet he can’t look away. 

_ They’re going to die out there _ , he thinks, stomach twisting as the Kaiju delivers yet another vicious blow. Shisui’s frustration rolls through him once more, an angry weight pushing at him from the inside out, and Itachi looks over at his co-pilot in horror. Shisui’s thoughts are flickering by, moving at a speed so rapid Itachi struggles to keep up, but he’s able to pluck out a few fragments like  _ do something _ and  _ act fast _ . Instinctively, Itachi knows he’s right; the longer they sit here, the more likely it is their inaction will condemn their comrades to death. 

As if on cue, Shisui turns to look at him, and Itachi meets the steel in his gaze, nodding at the question his partner doesn’t have to ask. For the first time since they became a team, everything is simple and easy: Shisui lurches forward, and Itachi moves with him. As one unit, Susano’o runs through the thick waves, advancing on the battle before them. 

The reaction from Mission Control is instantaneous. “Um, hi, what the  _ fuck _ are you two doing, exactly?” Anko’s angry voice blasts through the Comm, and Itachi winces. 

“Susano’o, get back to your position immediately.” His father’s tone is level, but Itachi knows the man well enough to hear the barely-contained fury in his voice. In the past, Itachi had shrunk under that voice, compelled to obey by years and years of doing everything in his power to please his father, to earn his respect. Now, in the face of literal life and death, such a thing doesn’t matter all that much to Itachi. Now, he tunes out both Anko and Fugaku and shifts his attention to the monster only yards away from them. The only person he needs to listen to in this moment is Shisui. 

As they move closer to the Kaiju, Itachi is suddenly very glad he was paired with a veteran Ranger rather than a green graduate like himself. Whatever fear laced their connection before all but disappears in a puff of smoke, replaced with an intense, singular focus that overwhelms all of Itachi’s other thoughts. The line of communication is clearer than it’s ever been between them--perhaps because Itachi’s currently far too preoccupied with not dying to worry about literally anything else--so Itachi’s quickly able to cotton onto Shisui’s first move: to take advantage of both Susano’o’s speed and Madara’s quest to destroy Evening Elephant and use the element of surprise to get the upper hand. He knows just as well as Shisui does they have to move with deliberate pragmatism; their Jaeger’s exceptional quickness means she’s lighter than most models, and thus more susceptible to taking damage. The fewer hits they take, the more likely they are to survive this battle. 

Unfortunately, they’ve underestimated the creature’s intelligence. As soon as Susano’o gets within striking distance, Madara spins with frightening speed and strikes the Jaeger with the thick mass of its tail. The blow lands on Susano’o’s right side, and knocks the wind out of Itachi’s lungs. Stunned by the impact, Shisui’s panic suddenly filling his head, and the pain blossoming through his ribcage, Itachi nearly slips out of the Drift, just for a moment, but manages to hold himself steady. 

“Itachi!” Fugaku calls out, sounding uncharacteristically concerned. “Report your status.”

“We’re alright,” Itachi says, wincing at how difficult it is to speak through the ache in his chest. Despite the physical discomfort, he’s relieved that both he and Shisui’s vitals have stayed strong, and blessedly it doesn’t appear that Susano’o has sustained serious damage. 

“I’m ordering you to fall back,” his father responds, all authority. 

“Not an option,” Shisui replies. Itachi’s never heard his cousin sound so serious before, and it sends a chill up his spine as he feels Shisui’s steely determination burning in the Drift. “Get Kakashi and Gai out of here. We’ll handle Madara.” Without another word, he turns off communications, and Itachi can’t even begin to fathom the hell they’re in store for if they survive this. Turning to his partner, Shisui asks, “You with me?”

Despite the situation, Itachi can’t help but roll his eyes. “You’re in my head, Shisui. You know I am.”

“I know,” Shisui says, smirking.  “I just wanted to hear you say it.”

With a piercing howl that nearly overwhelms all of Itachi’s thoughts, Madara advances on them, and they barely manage to sidestep the attack. While the creature’s momentarily unguarded, Shisui pulls his right arm back and, with Itachi’s assistance, slams it into Madara’s spiked skull. The force of their punch sends the Kaiju reeling, and the victorious rush of adrenaline suddenly coursing through Itachi’s veins is the most exhilarating feeling he’s ever experienced.  _ Don’t get cocky _ , Shisui thinks at him, and Itachi has no time to point out the irony of that statement before Madara barrels towards them once more. Taking their chances, they decide to hold their ground, and manage to get in another well-timed punch before Madara can strike first. After that they attack with a barrage of punches, one after the other, not giving the monster time to react, and as it keens in agony Shisui’s confidence swells. But Itachi, suspicious after the blow they took earlier, can’t help but feel like they’re falling into a trap. His worry is unfortunately confirmed when Madara turns its massive head and sinks its fangs into Susano’o’s right arm. 

“Fuck!” Shisui exclaims as the nerves in his own arm begin to scream. Itachi is momentarily frozen by the injury, but quickly recovers, and blasts the cannon in their Jaeger’s left arm at Madara. He aims for the creature’s chest, but the Kaiju dodges a moment too soon, and the strike merely scalds its side. Still, it’s enough to get the monster to release them, and they skitter away from its clutches. 

“Don’t worry about me,” Shisui tells him, his eyes never leaving Madara. “I can hear you worrying, it’s like there’s a little old lady dithering inside my head. It’s very distracting.” Despite his attempts at humor to break the tension, Itachi can feel his cousin’s own concern, and he wonders how likely they’ll be to escape these waters alive. “Stop thinking like that,” Shisui cuts in, annoyed. “We’re not dying out here, so shut up and get ready.”

Itachi nods, choosing to have faith in his partner just as he has since the moment they began this journey together. Shisui hasn’t failed him yet, and Itachi intends to return the favor. Now well and truly pissed off, it’s clear Madara isn’t holding anything back, and they move at lightning speed to dodge the creature’s relentless onslaught while they decide on the best course of action. 

The most logical step seems to be the cannon, but just as Itachi preps the weapon and lines up, Madara uses its quick footing and steps out of the way. In seconds, the Kaiju is on them, massive arms wrapped around Susano’o’s waist, and they barely have time to brace themselves before their Jaeger is being thrown through the air.

Susano’o hits the water with a sickening thud, and Itachi feels the impact in every bone in his body. Groaning in pain, it takes a second to remember how vulnerable their current position his, how dangerous. This is exactly what landed Evening Elephant in so much trouble, he thinks. But that realization quickly inspires another one that could prove to be far more useful. 

_ Get up, get up, get up _ , Shisui chants in his head, the mantra quick and sick with fear, but Itachi stubbornly stays still. He has an idea, potentially a terrible one with a great chance of getting them both killed, but if it works…

It doesn’t take long before Shisui understands his plan and bewilderment all but slaps Itachi over the head, along with a string of curses that could make even a sailor blush. But despite the insanity of his current thought process, Shisui relaxes and, against his instincts, waits for Madara to pounce. 

Predictably, it moves just as Itachi expected, just as it did with Evening Elephant. Though this Kaiju is unusually intelligent, it’s nothing compared to he and Shisui’s combined cleverness. Just before it can land on Susano’o, they move in sync and fire as many rounds from the cannon as possible. Their shots hit Madara all over its massive body: head, chest, arms--they fire at any piece of the monster they can see. The electric blue of Kaiju blood sprays everywhere and all Itachi can hear are Madara’s piercing cries, but in less than a minute it’s over. An eerie silence overtakes the coast as the creature freezes and its still body falls backwards, shaking the ocean in its wake. Climbing to their feet, they watch their opponent for movement, any sign that Madara may be playing an unusually sophisticated trick on them. But there’s nothing, no sound except their own harsh breathing and the waves rippling around them. To confirm, Shisui turns the Comm back on and calls out, “Did we get it?”

“I’m going to rip you limb from limb the next time I see your stupid face,” Anko replies, downright murderous.

Exhaling an irritated sigh, Shisui presses, “Yes or no, Anko?”

“Fortunately for you idiots, we’re not detecting any signs of life. So yeah, you got it. Now get your asses back here.” 

Itachi closes his eyes, all but sagging against his station in relief. “Understood,” he says, sounding faint even to his own ears. Though he’s ready to sleep for approximately eight years, right now he’s more than content to stay by the coast and avoid the mess waiting for them at the Shatterdome.

“We’re on our way,” Shisui confirms before turning the Comm off once more. After a long moment, he turns to Itachi and says, cheerfully, “Well, that was fun.” 

Itachi stares at his best friend and the ridiculous smile spreading across Shisui’s face. He looks like the boy Itachi grew up with again, bright-eyed and fearless, and though he thought it was impossible somehow Itachi falls just a little bit more in love with him. “Anko was right,” he replies, unable to suppress a grin of his own. “You are an idiot.”

As they stand in a pool of Kaiju blood, sweaty and exhausted from battle and very,  _ very _ lucky to be alive Shisui’s answering laughter is perhaps the best sound Itachi has ever heard. “Let’s go home,” Shisui says, and Itachi nods, chest swelling. 

_ Home.  _ He can used to hearing that. 

  
  


*

 

The first thing they see after fully disengaging with Susano’o is the visibly enraged face of Fugaku Uchiha. “The Marshal’s office, now,” he says lowly, then turns on his heel, not even bothering to check that Shisui and Itachi are trailing behind him. 

“Time for a slap on the wrist,” Shisui says, though the humor in his voice does nothing to loosen the anxious grip around Itachi’s heart. The fear must show on his face because Shisui’s expression softens when he looks at Itachi and reaches up to gently squeeze his shoulder. The touch is steadying, relieving, exactly the opposite of everything else Itachi is currently feeling, and he holds onto it as they walk behind Fugaku’s tense frame.

The door has barely clicked behind them before his father launches into his speech. “I don’t know what the two of you were thinking,” he says.

“Sir, if I may--” Shisui starts, but Fugaku cuts him off almost instantly.

“No. I don’t want to hear a single word. I gave you-- _ both _ of you--very clear instructions, and you disobeyed them.”

“Give him a break. It was my idea.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that,” Fugaku says darkly before he looks at Itachi and adds, quieter, “But I still expected better of you.”

Despite himself, Itachi finds himself wilting under the full force of his father’s disappointed gaze. Hold habits, as they say.

“‘Better than what,’ exactly?” Shisui says hotly. “Better than taking down a Kaiju on his first run? Better than saving his fellow Rangers?”

“What you did or didn’t do is irrelevant. You were ordered to stand down.”

“I know what my orders were. I also know that you’re standing here because the only thing you  _ can _ do is order us around. You’re not a Ranger. You don’t know what it’s like to be out there stuck in a tin can staring down an unholy beast with only yourself and your partner to fall back on. But I do.  _ That’s _ why I made the call that I knew was going to keep all of us alive for another day so you two can keep bossing us around. And if you think I’m going to be quiet while you rip us a new asshole over saving the day, you know even less than I think you do.” 

“You think because you’re gifted it gives you the right to do whatever you want, but at the end of the day you are still a soldier under the command of this organization. Being a reckless fool has been successful for you so far, but there’s going to be a day when your luck runs out, and when that day comes you’re going to wish you hadn’t stood here running your mouth about things you know nothing about.” 

“That’s enough, both of you,” Hiruzen cuts in, and both Shisui and Fugaku stiffen. “Fugaku is right; you can’t just whatever you’d like because you’re talented. There have to be consequences for such insurrections. Because of that, the two of you are confined to the Shatterdome for the next two weeks for your subordination. That being said…” The Marshal’s face softens into a tired grin, and he continues, “Even though you thumbed your noses at the chain of command, you saved the lives of your comrades and displayed excellent teamwork. Very nicely done.” 

“Thank you, sir,” Itachi says, more than a little bewildered by the praise. Out of the corner of his eye he catches Shisui smiling at him, affectionate and proud, and tries to force down the blush he feels blooming in his cheeks.

“You’re dismissed,” Hiruzen replies, and neither Itachi or Shisui needs to be told twice, fleeing the office as if they’re escaping a burning building. 

Before heading back to their room they stop at the infirmary to check on Kakashi and Gai. The medical ward is mostly empty save for the new patients and a small staff of nurses and doctors on-call for the overnight, and Itachi feels all too noticeable as he follows Shisui to the Rangers’ room. Some of his discomfort is eased upon seeing that both men are in one piece and, in Gai’s case, in relatively high spirits. Kakashi had escaped the onslaught mostly unscathed, left only with scattered cuts and bruises and a sprained wrist, though unfortunately Gai hadn’t been so lucky. While he hadn’t received any lasting wounds, both of his legs had been broken, putting him out of commission for the foreseeable future. It’s a prospect that clearly doesn’t sit well with him, who already seems antsy at the more thought of bedrest. 

“It’s only temporary,” Gai says, beaming at the younger Rangers. 

“Don’t push your luck,” Kakashi replies from his spot at the edge of Gai’s bed, arms crossed tight against his chest. “Not even you can unbreak your bones.”

“You underestimate me, rival! I’ll be out of this bed and defeating you in the Combat Room before you can even miss me!”

“I won’t hold my breath.” 

Itachi watches the banter with a sinking feeling in his stomach. He’s acutely aware of how close both he and Shisui came to ending up in a hospital bed, maybe even a coffin, tonight. Slowly, it’s beginning to dawn on him that this is his new normal, that he’s going to spend most, if not the rest of his life walking this knife edge of war and peace, life and death, simply waiting for the moment where he loses everything. 

As if reading his thoughts--which he very well may be, all things considered--Shisui leans against him, just enough for their shoulders to press together. The weight and warmth of his body is a reassuring reminder that the worst hasn’t happened, not yet. 

“I suppose I should thank you,” Kakashi says, tearing his eyes off Gai to look at Itachi and Shisui.

“That isn’t necessary,” Itachi replies. “We were just doing our jobs.”

“Actually, you were doing the complete opposite of your jobs--a fact I’m incredibly grateful for, mind you.”

“Well, if there’s anything I like more than not watching people die horribly it’s pissing off Fugaku, so the pleasure was mine,” Shisui adds sunnily. 

“Oh, to have the optimism of youth again,” Kakashi drawls, and Gai snorts in response. 

“Kakashi, even as a child you were never optimistic,” he points out, and despite his own amusement Itachi can’t help but wonder exactly how long until his own partner’s high hopes come plummeting down to Earth.

Later on, after returning to their dorm to shower off the evening’s events, they sit on Itachi’s bed in silent contemplation. Eventually Shisui runs a hand through his still shower-damp hair and says, “I was angry at him for a long time. My father, I mean.”

Itachi looks at his friend, puzzled by this new information. “I never would have known.”

“Of course you wouldn’t; I didn’t  _ want _ you to know. It’s not something I’m proud of.” Shisui’s lips twist wryly. It isn’t a pleasant expression. “When the Kaiju attacks kept coming, kept getting worse, I expected him to do something. Anything. I mean, you know our family history. I figured he’d join Kagami, be a hero, save the world. But he didn’t. He just… kept living the same old boring, corporate life as if nothing had changed. I started to resent him for it; all my life I had looked up to him, and now he was just this disappointment I didn’t know. So when he got hurt, when he…” His voice trails off, lost in the memory. “When he and my mother died, I blamed him. It was easier to be angry than be sad. It was easier to hate him than miss him.”

“What changed?”

“Me, mostly. The older I got, the more I understood how hard what we do is. It was a silly kid’s fantasy, to think you could jump in a Jaeger and take down a Kaiju and everything would be sunshine and rainbows. It wasn’t until I joined the war that I realized exactly what kind of sacrifice I expected him to make. It was easy to forgive him after my first Drift. But it took longer to forgive myself for being so cruel to him.” 

Itachi says nothing. He’s fairly certain there’s nothing  _ to _ say. Instead he lets his mind wander back to Shisui’s memory, to the small boy weeping beside his father’s ravaged corpse. He thinks of Shisui now, a man no older than twenty-two who talks like a grizzled war veteran. It makes his heart clench. 

Shisui falls asleep in his bed not long after that. Itachi should make him move; they haven’t shared a bed since they were kids, and it’s certainly not appropriate now, all things considered. But he doesn’t; he can’t bring himself to. Instead he simply turns off the light and lies across from Shisui in the dark. That night he stays awake for a long time looking at his cousin’s sleeping face in the moonlight, wondering exactly what this war is going to take from him.

 

*

 

“I heard Shisui got you in trouble the other day.”

Itachi raises an eyebrow at he looks at his brother’s gleeful expression, slightly distorted when displayed across the screen of his laptop. “And where did you hear that, exactly?”

“From Dad.”

The eyebrow climbs higher on his forehead. “Father told you that?”

“Not exactly. I heard him talking to Mom about it.”

“Sasuke, you shouldn’t eavesdrop on people.” 

“It’s the only way I can learn stuff! It’s not like you were going to tell me; you’re always too busy to talk to me,” Sasuke adds sourly. 

“I’m talking to you now, aren’t I?” Itachi replies gently. When that fails, he sighs and plays his trump card: “What else did Father say about me?”

As predicted, that livens his brother’s sullen face up again. “That you were reckless and irresponsible, and you and Shisui should have never been paired together,” Sasuke recites with a truly gross amount of cheer. “He said he told the Marshal this is what would happen because this is how it’s always been with you guys, that Shisui’s always been a bad influence on you. I dunno if he’s wrong about that,” he adds thoughtfully.

“It wasn’t entirely Shisui’s fault; we made the decision together to assist Kakashi and Gai.”

“That’s so cool that you did, though!”

“It was definitely  _ not _ cool and you will most certainly  _ not _ join the Jaeger Academy when you’re of age,” Itachi replies firmly.

Sasuke deflates like a sad, little balloon. “You’re the worst,” he mutters. “Anyway, he said something about how it was just a matter of time before you guys brought shame to the family because…” His brother trails off, and Itachi frowns at the implications of that sentence.

“‘Because?’” he presses.

“That’s all I heard before Mom found me and sent me to my room,” Sasuke says, shrugging. “Who knows what the fuck he was talking about.”

“ _ Language _ ,” Itachi reminds him sternly, earning a very teenage eye roll in response. 

“Whatever! You’re just as uptight as Dad is sometimes, you know that?” 

“I’m aware,” Itachi replies dryly before adding, “Why don’t you tell me how your classes are going?”

The disgusted expression his brother gives him in response tells Itachi just about everything he needs to know.

Even as Sasuke rambles on about how much he hates school and especially hates his classmates (hilariously, how much he hates Minato and Kushina’s son in particular), Itachi finds it hard to focus on anything other than his suspicions on what his father was actually talking about. He tries to chalk the overheard conversation up to his father’s usual worries about Itachi’s path in life and his brother’s penchant for over-exaggeration, but despite his best efforts Fugaku’s words continue to nag at him long after he and Sasuke have finished speaking. 

His internal dialogue ties neatly into a thread of questioning that’s been living inside Itachi’s head since returning to the Shatterdome. There have been hints, a collection of sharp looks and even sharper words, that would indicate something’s shifted in their family dynamics in the years since Itachi, Shisui, and Fugaku have all lived under the same roof. It’s a discomfort Itachi’s been reluctant to pick too much at for fear of what he’ll learn. At the same time, not knowing hasn’t proved itself helpful, either. 

The smart and mature thing to do would be to simply ask Shisui about it. Instead, Itachi decides to take a page out of his cousin’s book and snoop. 

Since he and Shisui are temporarily relieved of training while Susano’o undergoes minor repairs (and while his father is probably scheming up a way to disable the team altogether), Itachi decides to spend his afternoon in the K-Science lab. Fond of Shisui as he is, even Itachi can’t tolerate his partner for every moment of every day, and it’s nice sometimes to escape their dorm and spend time apart. That and if there’s anyone he can pump for information without it getting back to Shisui himself, it’s Kabuto Yakushi. 

Despite the prickliness of Kabuto and Itachi’s own social ineptitude, they’ve managed to form something of an alliance over the past few weeks. With that fact in mind, Itachi doesn’t take it personally when the scientist doesn’t so much as spare him a glance as he enters the lab; he simply pulls up a chair and waits. 

After a few minutes of quietly observing Kabuto at work, Itachi finally breaks the silence to ask, “What have you noticed about my father and Shisui?” 

Kabuto looks up from the samples he’s currently organizing, expression a cross between confusion and annoyance. “Why on Earth would you ask me? I don’t speak to either of those people unless I absolutely have to.” Shaking his head, he adds, “Your father is an asshole and Shisui is a moron. Next.”

Biting back a smirk, Itachi replies, “I meant, have they been fighting with one another since you and Karin were stationed in the Shatterdome?”

“I’m not sure I’d call it ‘fighting,’ but there’s always been a noticeable frost between the two of them. Not that I’m terribly invested in your family drama, mind you; it’s just that I’d prefer my workplace to be free of stupidity, and their pissing contests tend to bring a significant quantity of that to the table.” Seemingly satisfied with the state of his collection of Kaiju viscera, Kabuto places the vials into an honest-to-God safe and carefully locks them away. Mission completed, he turns his attention back to Itachi. “Again, I ask: why are we talking about this?”

“Perhaps because we are friends and friends discuss their problems with each other?” Itachi suggests wryly.

“Pass,” Kabuto says. “Talk to your partner about it; seems like half the time it’s his fault, anyway.”

“Yes and no,” Itachi allows. “My father is a… complicated man. I can see why working with him would be a challenging experience.”

“I can’t imagine being raised by that guy. No wonder why you two turned out the way you did. I mean, why even come here if Fugaku’s such a pain in the ass?”

“I could ask you a similar question. Why stay in the Shatterdome if we melodramatic peons are so exhausting?” 

“Because I like my work and it’s all I have,” Kabuto answers easily, and Itachi feels a pang of regret for being so cavalier in his questioning. “You didn’t answer me, by the way.”

“I came here because I wanted to.”

“Did you? Or was it because it’s what your father wanted  _ for _ you?”

The question takes Itachi by surprise. Admittedly, it’s not the first time he’s had his life choices examined with such starkness; before he had left for the Academy his mother had asked him nearly the exact same thing. Back then, Itachi had brushed off her words, not wanting to hear them and certainly not wanting to take them to heart. But now, a bit older and theoretically also a bit wiser, he’s more open to exploring his motivations for his current occupation. As much as he’d like to say that his father’s wishes and expectations had no influence in his decisions, Itachi can’t deny--at least privately--that he’s spent much of his life making careful moves to win his father’s approval and seemingly intangible affection. 

Kabuto is staring at him expectedly, so after a long silence Itachi simply answers, “Both, I suppose.”

“See, hearing you say that almost makes me glad to be an orphan. Now hand me another label if you don’t want me to kick you out for being a melodramatic peon.”

Rolling his eyes, Itachi nevertheless acquiesces. 

That evening, he decides to take Kabuto’s advice and finally bites the bullet. Peering across the room, he looks at Shisui and asks, “Why are you and my father always arguing with one another?”

Shisui glances up from the laundry that he’s folding (mostly because Itachi forced the issue and is actually  _ making _ him fold his damn clothes for once) and eyes Itachi with surprise. “Because that’s how it’s always been?” he offers, clearly confused, before asking, “Where is this coming from?”

“I know things have never been… pleasant, between you two. But it feels worse than it was when we were younger.”

“Well, we work together now, and that’s been a fucking adventure considering we never agree on a single thing when it comes to fighting this war.” 

“And that’s been the only problem?”

“I guess so. I mean, what else would it be?” 

“I don’t know,” he replies with a shrug, settling onto his futon once more. He lets the matter drop for the moment, resolving to gather more evidence before approaching the subject again. But, try as he might, he can’t escape the lingering feeling something is being hidden from him. 

 

*

 

Life in the Shatterdome is at once both painfully dull and filled with anxiety. To Itachi’s surprise, the chaos of Madara’s attack quickly passes, and the residents of the Shatterdome settle back into their normal routine. There’s a necessary pragmatism to how everything in the Shatterdome is handled, a coldness that everyone implicitly understands and accepts. Itachi wonders if it will always be like this, if everyone will continue to be so blase even when the bodies of his comrades stack up. 

Time passes by in an uncomfortable pull. Without the shining light of a victory to keep away the uncertainty and despair, everyone has gone back to the quiet panic of waiting for another inevitable attack.

In a way, Itachi thinks he should be relieved that the first fight is over; from here on he’s just going to become a better Ranger and a better partner. But he isn’t. Now that he’s seen what battling a Kaiju actually entails, the prospect of going up against one again has his stomach in knots. There are a lot of factors that make him anxious, but the biggest is that there’s still an uneasiness to his connection with Shisui. They’ve practiced almost everyday since that first fight in the Kodiak, and Itachi can admit they’ve made great progress. But every once in awhile their compatibility will plummet, seemingly without warning, and it feels like going through a windshield. It makes both Fugaku and the Marshal nervous, though Shisui is quick to reassure them with a bullshit line and an easy smile that, Itachi notices, never quite touches his eyes. He tries very hard not to think about that, because the prospect of Shisui of all people doubting him is unbearable. 

Slowly but surely, it starts to become an unfortunate pattern of success, then sudden failure, and Itachi’s paranoia grows. More than ever he becomes obsessed with being open, with being perfect, and all it does is raise his walls higher. After one particularly rocky session, Itachi’s conviction is shaken more than it has been since he and Shisui’s first drift. It feels like falling all the way back to step one, maybe even further because even after all his work, all the literal blood, sweat, and tears, he’s here again, closed down and insecure. Maybe it really had been a pipe dream after all, to think he could be anyone’s partner considering his allergy to any and all vulnerability. 

That night, Shisui finds him in their bunk, facing the wall and sulking like a child. Even while staring into the abyss of his own inadequacy, Itachi can admit it’s a bit much. 

Sighing, Shisui sits on the edge of his partner’s futon. “I’m not going to be angry,” he starts carefully. “If you want to back out.”

“It isn’t that. I want this more than anything. I’m just not sure I’m cut out for it.” 

“Mm, true. I can’t imagine what the Jaeger program could possibly do with a freakish teen genius with impeccable simulation scores.”

“Are you intentionally being thick about this?” Itachi asks irritably. “I was almost kicked out of the program for the exact same reason you and I are having this conversation: I’m horrible at Drifting. I’m terrible at opening up to people. I never should have been a Ranger in the first place.” 

“Easy, that’s my best friend you’re talking about. And can I not have this conversation with the back of your head, by the way?”

Even though it’s about the last thing Itachi wants to do in the moment, he rolls over to face his cousin. “I’m not wrong, though,” he says.  “You know me, Shisui. You know I’m not… good with people.”

“Maybe that’s true, but I’m not ‘people.’ You’ve always been good with me.” 

“If that’s the case, what does it say about me that I can’t even let  _ you _ in?” 

“You have let me in,” Shisui counters, with a surprising ferocity. “Not all the way in, sure, but that doesn’t happen overnight. Seriously, you can’t beat yourself up over this. It isn’t an easy process for anyone.”

“It is for you.”

“Not when I started. I took to it better than most, yeah, but I still felt just as fucked up as you do right now. That’s why I’m telling you to cut yourself some slack, because I’ve been there before.”

For a brief moment, Itachi almost tells him. There had been a time, Itachi thinks, when his infatuation with Shisui would perhaps have been acceptable. Back when they were children, maybe, when the affection and longing he felt for Shisui was nothing but an innocent desire to follow his cousin down whatever path his rebellious ways took him. It didn’t matter what Shisui was doing or why; Itachi didn’t need explanations to know that if Shisui was there it was something he wanted to be apart of. For a while, it had seemed a lot like his own brother’s love for him--exhilaration, admiration, and a bit of jealousy tangled up together in a young heart. But it wasn’t like that, not really. It was a silly puppy love that seemed, from the moment it blossomed, all encompassing. And again, if it had stayed that way, an absurd crush born from a child’s overactive imagination, perhaps it wouldn’t bother Itachi. If it were just a memory Itachi could file away, it wouldn’t haunt him everytime he stepped into the drift and anxiously waited for Shisui to expose him.  

Instead he says nothing, choosing to sit in silence, wallowing in the weight of his unspoken words. “And it doesn’t frustrate you?” he asks finally. “That I’m… like this?” 

“Itachi, I’ve known you since I was ten years old. Hell, most days I know you better than myself. I didn’t think for a second this was going to be easy for you, and I’m not upset that I’m right. It doesn’t make me happy, seeing you so upset, but you’re not a burden on me because for once in your life that you’re not perfect at something.” 

“I’m scared,” he says after a moment. “Of letting you all the way in, and losing myself. Or losing you because you’ll see something in me that I don’t want you to.” 

“Not possible.” There’s a softness in Shisui’s eyes that’s almost painful in its earnesty, and Itachi finds himself looking away. “Look, if there’s something you really don’t want me to know, it’s not impossible to hide it, even in the drift.”

Itachi looks back at him, frowning. “And you would be all right with that?”

“Sure. I have my secrets, too.”

The notion of his loud-mouthed cousin hiding anything has Itachi raising an eyebrow. “Like what?”

“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a secret, would it?” Shisui smiles, though the expression is tense, inauthentic. Despite his curiosity, Itachi decides not to pry; it would truly be the height of irony to insist on knowing every last detail of Shisui’s life, considering the mental gymnastics Itachi himself has resorted to in the hopes of hiding the biggest skeleton in his own closet. 

After Shisui’s peptalk, it gets easier; with time, Itachi can feel himself start to relax into the drift once more. The blips, though infrequent, continue, but both he and Shisui get better at riding them out, and Itachi keeps trying to convince himself it’s not a sign he’s broken. Regardless of their situation, the consequences of their constant drifts have been making themselves known. One morning, Itachi is sitting in the cafeteria finishing a cup of coffee when he remembers he doesn’t actually  _ like _ coffee. Another day, he walks into their room to find Shisui in his bed thumbing through Itachi’s worn copy of  _ Beyond Good and Evil _ with a frown.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“I dunno,” Shisui replies, shaking his head and tossing the book onto Itachi’s bunk.

It goes on and on, more instances than Itachi can count that prove just how connected he and Shisui have become. They’re all small things, seemingly insignificant occurrences like Shisui using his shampoo or them finishing each other’s sentences without thinking. It makes Itachi feel like his skin is on too tight, but he tells himself he’s overreacting. It’s only natural this would happen, he reasons, when two people share one mind. There’s nothing to panic about. 

Until, of course, there is. 

 

*

 

The very night he and Shisui’s two week ban on the outside world is lifted, Shisui pokes his head into their room and says, “A couple of the techs are going out for drinks, you wanna come with?”

Itachi stares at him for a very long, very silent moment. “Is that a serious question?” he asks finally. 

Shisui blinks. “Uh, yes?” 

“Of course, because I spend so much of my life with beer in hand.”

“Oh, don’t be like that. It’s not going to kill you to socialize a little for once.”

“Knowing how you spend your free time, it very well might.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle,” Shisui vows sincerely, then cackles like a madman as he ducks to avoid the book Itachi throws at his head. It’s better than Shisui catching sight of how suddenly and horrifically red-faced Itachi has become.

Against his better judgment, he does indeed end up following Shisui into the Hong Kong nightlife, though he’s not entirely sure why. Vaguely he wonders if this whole adventure is even legal; after all, he’s always been so uninterested in partying and drinking in general he has no idea if he’s actually of age. Regardless of the sticky issue of criminality, their small group manages to get into a local bar without any problems, and Itachi doesn’t doubt his cousin’s very handsome and very famous face has something to do with it. Shisui’s status as equal parts celebrity and superhero grants him certains liberties in this world he’s always been just shameless enough to exploit, should the mood strike him. It’s a trait Itachi finds either endearing or annoying depending on his mood; tonight, he’s veering more towards the latter. 

The bar itself is dreadful, the kind of place Itachi thought only existed in low-budget gangster movies. It’s much too small, and far,  _ far _ too dirty, and he shudders to think how many health code violations are broken at this establishment on a daily basis. The company, outside of Shisui, doesn’t exactly help matters. While he could take or leave Izumo and Kotetsu, Anko has made Itachi nervous since the day he met her. There’s something about the way her gaze always falls on him just a bit too keenly that makes Itachi feel like the woman sees far more than she should. 

Blocking out the way Anko lingers over his shoulder like a vulture, Itachi follows Shisui to the counter. It doesn’t take long before the bartender slides two small glasses filled with a clear liquid Itachi regards suspiciously. 

Catching the look on his cousin’s face, Shisui laughs loudly. “What is the point of coming to a bar and not drinking?” Before Itachi can protest, Shisui hands him a shot, and says, “You’re only young once, you know. C’mon, live a little.”

For the second time tonight Itachi decides to throw caution to the wind and follows Shisui’s dubious example, downing the drink in one go. Predictably, it’s a huge mistake, and in seconds he’s coughing and gagging at the horrifically bitter taste. “That was the worst thing I have tasted in my life,” he declares flatly, face contorted in disgust. “Why do I ever listen to you?”

“Because I’m a delight and you adore me,” Shisui replies, looking exceptionally pleased with himself, and Itachi’s head is buzzing just enough that he doesn’t bother to deny it. 

Despite his initial misgivings, the night doesn’t start out entirely terrible. The techs are actually pretty nice and easy to talk to, and after days of trying to confine his time with Shisui purely to their training sessions it’s nice to simply hang out again. It helps that Shisui isn’t much different when he drinks, just a more open and carefree version of himself. It’s not a bad sight to see, in Itachi’s opinion; though he suspects most people already view Shisui as unburdened and inhibitionless, Itachi can sense how the years spent fighting for his life have sharpened his cousin. Honestly, it’s almost a relief to experience Shisui less immersed in his calculated air of reckless abandon and watch him truly let go for once. 

Of course, it helps that Shisui plays it a lot more fast and loose with certain concepts like personal space when he’s drinking. And Itachi, not entirely sober himself, is far from objecting, finds himself reveling in the way Shisui casually drapes himself over Itachi and leans in far too close to speak to him, lips brush Itachi’s ear as he tries to talk over the noise of the crowd. It’s a dangerous game to play, a fact that the rational, not intoxicated part of Itachi’s brain knows very well. It’s just that he’s finding it nearly impossible to care right now. 

Things start to go downhill when Shisui goes to get more drinks and Kotetsu and Izumo disappear to do God knows what, leaving Itachi trapped with Anko. After a few minutes of trying to force mindless polite conversation, Itachi is looking over his shoulder to see if he can spot his wayward cousin. It doesn’t take long: Shisui’s a difficult person to miss, even outside of Itachi’s singular focus. Back at the counter, a small crowd has gathered around his cousin and as always Shisui appears to be basking in the attention. A foul taste crawls up his throat, and foolishly Itachi reaches for his previously untouched second drink to wash it down. He downs the shot in one swallow, relishing the burn. Better to focus on the pain of the alcohol than the pain of being reminded of what he can never have. 

“Disgusting, isn’t it?” Anko asks with a grin. There’s a perpetual smile on the woman’s face, filled with a feral kind of glee that makes Itachi nervous. 

“Very,” he agrees. 

“Has he always been like this?”

Itachi watches as Shisui banters and laughs with a young woman at the bar and flashes back to their high school days when Shisui seemed chronically surrounded by beautiful, infatuated girls. It’s amazing how nothing has changed, including Itachi’s own bitterness at Shisui’s endless flirtations. “Yes,” he replies grimly, trying to shove down the pit forming in his stomach. 

Anko laughs. “Gross,” she says; privately, Itachi agrees. “You know, for a while I didn’t think you two were actually related. The way Shisui talks about you made it seem like you were his secret boyfriend and he just didn’t want to ruin his ladykiller reputation.”  

Sensing danger, Itachi slides his gaze from Shisui’s antics back to Anko. “Obviously that isn’t the case.”

“Oh, yeah. Obviously,” Anko agrees easily, though Itachi can’t help but feel like he’s being played. Nevertheless, the woman continues, “But really, it’s truly disgusting the way he thinks the sun shines out of your ass.”

“He’s always been a very… emotional person,” Itachi replies, rapidly growing uncomfortable with the direction this conversation is taking. 

“I’ll take it he doesn’t know,” Anko says, her suddenly gaze razor-sharp.

Itachi frowns. “Know what?”

“That you’re in love with him.”

Ice rushes through Itachi’s veins. “Our relationship is nothing like that,” he replies, impressed by the evenness of his tone. “We’re family.”

Anko laughs. “Oh, we’re all well aware of that little detail.”

“I fail to see how what Shisui and I do with our lives concerns you.”

“Because he’s my best friend,” she answers with a unexpected intensity. “And I don’t want to watch him die in a robot because you can’t get your act together.”

“I am  _ not _ going to get Shisui killed,” Itachi says hotly. “And I’m perfectly capable of doing my job, so I would highly appreciate it if you’d keep your sick theories to yourself.”

“ _ Mhm _ ,” Anko drawls, lips curled up in a bitter smile. “Whatever you say, champ.” 

Stunned into silence, Itachi doesn’t even notice Shisui return until the man asks, “What’s got the both of you looking so serious?”

“Oh, I was just trying to pump your partner for more embarrassing stories about you, but tragically his lips are sealed.” Still grinning, Anko rises from his seat and adds,“Anyway, the night is young, so it’s time for me to look for fresh meat. Have fun, you two,” before disappearing into the crowd. 

Shisui reoccupies the seat next to Itachi, and the smell of his cologne mixed with the alcohol in Itachi’s veins has his head swimming. The discomfort must show, because soon Shisui is looking at him with knitted eyebrows. “Are you alright? You don’t look so good,” he says.

Shaking his head, Itachi says hoarsely, “I’m fine, I just feel a bit sick.”

Shisui snorts. “Talk about being a lightweight.”

“I should go back to the Shatterdome.”

“Probably a good idea. Give me a second to say goodbye to everyone, and I’ll take you back.”

“I don’t need an escort, Shisui. I can take care of myself,” Itachi snaps. He’s not sure where the sudden anger he feels is coming from, but he seizes onto it. 

“Uh, okay?” Shisui replies, clearly puzzled. “Sorry, where is this coming from?”

The thing is, Itachi knows, in the back of his mind, that he’s being incredibly unreasonable. The problem is that he’s currently using the front of his mind, which is running on a cocktail of Tequila and heartache, so he continues on: “Perhaps from the fact you dragged me to this idiotic outing then left me in the corner like a dog tied up outside a coffee shop.”

“What are you--Itachi, I didn't  _ make _ you come here. I  _ asked _ you, like a normal human being, and you said yes, like an adult who is more than capable of making his own choices. So I really don’t understand what the problem is here.”

“Your behavior is the problem here,” Itachi retorts. “All you care about is yourself and what you want. You never think of other people--what they think, how they feel, how the things you do affect them. You’re too busy being an embarrassment to the Jaeger Program.” 

“‘Embarrassment,’” Shisui repeats slowly, eyebrows raised. “That’s nice, man, that’s really nice. Good to know my best friend thinks so highly of me.” Whatever righteous fury Itachi’s worked up pops, and once the bubble disappears in his chest guilt takes its place. “You know what I think the  _ real _ problem is here? You’re jealous.”

For the second time that evening Itachi feels his insides cold and twisting, and he wonders if this is how really everything is going to fall apart between them. “And what,” he begins carefully. “would I be jealous of, exactly?”

“The fact that I actually can go out and get anyone I want, unlike you who can barely hold a conversation with another human being some days.” Itachi has no response, and Shisui adds, vicious, “Look, if you wanted to get laid that badly, there’s more than enough people you could go home with. Don’t take it out on me because you’re an antisocial jerk.”

Itachi stills. The words hit him so viscerally he feels as if Shisui has physically slapped him. “You are so unbelievably stupid,” he chokes out before grabbing his coat and all but stumbling out of the bar. 

Outside of the hazy darkness of the bar, Itachi can feel his head clearing as he breathes in fresh air for the first time in hours. Though he can feel himself relaxing, it lasts for only a handful of seconds before he hears the backdoor swing open behind him. “Hey!” a voice yells and though he’s not surprised Shisui’s followed him, it’s certainly an inconvenient development. Itachi keeps his gaze straight ahead as he hears Shisui’s quick footsteps echoing on the filthy payment, even though he knows it’s futile. “Would you stop? Itachi, where are you going?”

“I told you, I’m going back to the Shatterdome,” Itachi calls out in reply. “The last thing I want to do is spend my night having a screaming match with you in public.”

“Neither do I, so why are we both yelling?” It doesn’t take long for Shisui to catch up with him, and in seconds he’s grabbing Itachi’s arm and spinning him around so they’re face to face. Shisui himself is bright and flushed with what Itachi suspects is a combination of alcohol and emotional volatility, though he supposes he’s not one to judge Shisui for either of those things right now. “Jesus, what’s  _ with _ you?”

“It’s nothing. I’m fine,” Itachi insists for the second time that night, though somehow even less convincingly than before.

“Right, that’s why you’re randomly blowing up at me in bars over stupid shit, ‘cause you’re ‘fine,’” Shisui insists. “I know you, Itachi. I know when something’s bothering you. And even if I didn’t, it doesn’t take a genius to know that you’re pissed at me.” He sighs, exasperated. “Look, I’m sorry for what I said in there, I really am. It was fucked up and out of line, and I’m sorry. But if I don’t have a clue what I did before to cause all of that, so if you could just tell me then--”

“You didn’t do anything,” Itachi cuts in, Shisui’s fingertips are warm and clammy and distracting, their grip making it difficult for him to hold onto his anger. “Please, just leave me alone.”

“No! Not this time! All you have done since we became partners is close down and shut me out, and I’m sick of it. Just talk to me!”

“I don’t have anything to say to you!” Itachi snaps back.

As if on cue Shisui’s grasp tightens, and his expression looks wounded. “When did you start looking at me like that?” he asks softly.

Itachi stares at him, confused at the sudden change in both Shisui’s demeanor and their argument. “Like what?”

“Like you don’t trust me.”

For a moment, Itachi flashes back to the conversation before their fight with Madara.  _ I trust you more than I ever trusted anyone _ , he had said, and meant it. He stills means it. “It isn’t you,” he replies finally, “that I don’t trust.” 

Shisui says nothing. His grip on Itachi somehow strengthens further, the pain of it registering in the back of his mind. It’s impossible to focus on that as Shisui steps closer to him, eyes on his mouth, and Itachi realizes two things belatedly. The first is that his cousin is probably drunker than he originally thought, and the second is that Shisui’s definitely going to kiss him. Not in one of Itachi’s adolescent fantasies or in a bizarre drift by-product, but here, in real life, behind a dive bar in Hong Kong. If Itachi were more in control of himself right now, he would be dizzy with the twists and turns of this evening, and definitely more than a little incredulous. But in his current state of mind it all feels so normal, almost meant to be in its chaos. His back hits brick as Shisui corners him against one of the buildings, and Itachi could care less. He’s never been able to deny Shisui anything before, and he certainly doesn’t want to start now. 

Behind them the bar door opens and two girls stumble out, their shrill laughter echoing throughout the alleyway. Shisui’s hand falls away from him, his expression suddenly alert as if someone has dumped ice water on him. Itachi blinks, his sluggish mind struggling to process the change. He remembers too late where they are and, perhaps more importantly,  _ who _ they are, and suspects Shisui does, too. It’s better this way, Itachi knows that, but it doesn’t change the way his throat tightens, the burning in his eyes that has nothing to do with the smoke all around them. 

“Get back safe,” Shisui says, and Itachi nods, feel oddly disconnected from his own body. He all but stumbles into a cab, and doesn’t feel back in himself until he crawls under his sheets.

 

*

 

Just before sunrise Itachi is awoken by the sound of Shisui literally stumbling into their room. It’s not an entirely unfamiliar occurrence--there were more than a few times towards the end of Shisui’s time in their childhood home when Shisui came home trashed and caused a collective family meltdown--but that doesn’t make it any less annoying. Itachi lies motionless as he listens to Shisui struggling to get his shoes off and attempting (and failing) to move around quietly, then all but stops breathing when he hears Shisui stop in front of his bed.

“I know you’re awake,” his cousin says. “Move over.”

“Why, because you’re too drunk to get into your own bed?” Itachi asks irritably. 

“Yes,” Shisui replies, and there’s something in his deadpan honesty, despite his drunkenness, that melts Itachi’s resistance. He moves over.

Shisui falls into his bed with none of his usual feline grace, merely a pile of sloppy limbs pawing at the covers uselessly until Itachi, with a sigh, takes pity on him and throws a sheet over him. The scent of cheap perfume and even cheaper liquor clings to his cousin, and Itachi wrinkles his nose in disgust. “You need a shower,” he says, turning to give Shisui his back and shield himself from the smell.

“Later,” Shisui mutters, already sounding half asleep. Itachi suspects he’s passed out completely until he adds, minutes later, “‘m sorry, you know.”

Part of Itachi wants to push the issue and find out exactly what Shisui is sorry for--sorry for yelling at him, sorry for almost kissing him, sorry for his general existence? But he’s too tired to fight and Shisui is far too intoxicated to give him the answers he wants. Instead he simply says, “me too,” because it’s easier and because it’s true, too. 

“I shouldn't have yelled at you. Or gotten you drunk.”

Itachi snorts. “You didn’t get me drunk, Shisui. I only had two shots.”

“That’s drunk for people who don’t drink. I was a bad influence.” 

“You say that as if it’s something new.”

“I know.” Shisui’s tone is contemplative, the worrying kind of somber one can only reach when one has too many hits of cheap whiskey. “‘S why your dad booted me out and shipped me off to the Academy.”

“ _ What _ ?” In seconds, Itachi has spun on his side to face Shisui, who doesn’t even have his eyes open. “What are you talking about?”

“He didn’t want me hanging around you anymore, figured if I was out of his house and dying in a robot I could make something of myself. Stop being such a miserable, shit-for-brains fuckup for once.”

“Did he actually use those words?”

“Didn’t have to,” Shisui says around a yawn. “I just knew. ‘S fine, though. It all worked out.”

Itachi, mind sluggish with exhaustion and the faintest traces of alcohol, struggles to process this new information. Theoretically he knows he should take the confession with a grain of salt since Shisui is currently out of his mind, but it also makes perfect sense if it’s true. It would certainly explain the animosity between Shisui and Fugaku, though Itachi’s still convinced there’s a piece of the puzzle he hasn’t been gifted. For now, he files the topic away to discuss at a later time, preferably once he’s had a decent night’s rest and Shisui’s sobered up. 

Silence falls between them again. Itachi rests his head on the single pillow between them, trying to ignore just how close Shisui is and willing sleep to come to him. 

Of course Shisui, quickly falling into the “uncomfortably sentimental” phase of drunkenness, has to make everything that much worse by announcing, “You really are my favorite person, you know that?”

Itachi clenches his fingers in his pillowcase. “I know, Shisui,” he says, trying to keep his tone level and his breathing even. It’s a task that becomes infinitely more difficult when Shisui wraps an arm around his waist and pulls Itachi to him. 

“It was always you,” Shisui mumbles, and Itachi stops breathing altogether at the way Shisui’s lips brush his forehead as he speaks. In seconds Shisui’s asleep, evident from his soft breaths and relaxed muscles, but Itachi stays wide awake and tense. He feels as if Shisui’s touched a live wire to his skin, like his heartbeat will never slow and his chest will never stop aching with the cocktail of sadness, frustration, and pure need being close to Shisui always stirs within him. Caught between the urges of hysterical laughter and even more hysterical crying, Itachi knows, without a doubt, that he should peel Shisui off of him; his cousin’s a heavy sleeper and surely wouldn’t stir even if Itachi physically kicked him out of his very cramped futon. 

But, for the second time in a handful of weeks, he doesn’t. Against his better judgment, he shifts so that his head is tucked under Shisui’s chin and lays one hand over Shisui’s heart, feeling the steady rhythm as it beats beneath his palm. It will hurt that much more in the morning, when the distance between them will return and Itachi will have to pretend this moment never happened. It’s worth it, though, to be close for even just a moment, to know what it’s like to have the only thing he’s ever truly wanted for himself, flawed and broken as their current situation is. He’s tired of fighting with Shisui, fighting with the world, and most of all with himself. So, for just a moment, he lets himself rest.

That night, he sleeps better than he has in years. 

When he wakes the next morning, the spot beside him is cold and Shisui remembers nothing.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this wasn't supposed to take as long as it did but uhhh here we are folks. anyway, as always kudos and comments are very much appreciated. thanks for reading and see you for the finale!

**Author's Note:**

> a very special shoutout to my good friend and aforementioned roommate eeri for helping me edit/problem-solve this beast (check out their nart fic on here @ ContrEeri) and to my other very good friend alexa who is the only person i know who loves these two idiots as much as i do
> 
> about 70% of this fic is already written but the more i worked on it the more it made sense to break it into multiple parts rather than just doing a massive oneshot like i originally planned. so, see y'all next chapter!


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